Broken
by Splodge04
Summary: Mary is broken and doesn't see any means of escape and she goes missing. Will they find her? Will they save her from herself? Chelsie! Cobert! The Father/Daughter friendship between Mary & Carson This is AU as if the scene Carson & Mary reconcile in S4Ep1 doesn't happen. I love a bit of angst!
1. Chapter 1

Mary sat quietly, her eyes transfixed on a singular droplet of water, which slid slowly down the window as the storm outside raged on. It stopped, shifted, gained in size and seemed to follow no set pattern as it continued its course before ultimately vanishing. The greater body of water which pooled at the bottom absorbed and enveloped it in one suffocating motion. Mary sighed and drew her black shawl around her shoulders, a small chill rising through her body like a great wave. It seemed just a moment since she had taken herself up to her room, but by the way the light dwindled in the distance, the sun flashed its final ray of goodbye and too became engulfed by the sky she deduced that it must have been hours.

The weather outside had become increasingly awful as the day had progressed, the clouds turning an awful yellow colour and the rain pelting everything like slick cold bullets. The thunder was new, rolling over the surrounding estate like the heavens were trying to break open above them. Nobody had ventured up to the house at all and nobody had gone out through fear of getting caught up in it. This suited Mary quite well, because she hadn't wanted to go anywhere or see anyone, so it was more acceptable to sit quietly than if there were things expected of her.

The pain sat heavy in her chest, pulling and clawing as it attempted to force itself to the surface. Like the storm outside, it raged within her, howling and bashing, beating and moaning and crying out for her attention as she tried with all her might to push it away. As the wind began to pick up she could just barely make out the trees bowing to the raw power, the branches flapping in all directions like a demented bird scrambling to fly. The panic-like feeling which often accompanied the hollow and energy-sapping sadness was sitting high in her chest, so she tried her best to focus on the storm outside. It was almost like the storm was a physical representation of the turmoil and agony that had wrapped itself around her core. It felt like nothing she had ever experienced and it had sapped everything that she was and everything that she could ever be away. Never had she felt so lost and alone, never had she felt so alien to herself and never had she felt that she was no more as a person. A hollow Lady Mary.

An ear-deafening crack of thunder boomed above her, making her twitch and recoil as it vibrated through the Abbey, making its presence known to every fibre of the old building. Mary took a deep breath, reaching out for the edge of her shawl, gripping it tight between her fingers. Oh, how loud it was. This must have been what the bombs felt like in the trenches in the war, what Matthew had to experience in quick succession as they were bombarded. The echo of him still filled her mind, her body and even soul and it felt like nothing could ease the despair that had saturated her being.

The lightning flashed above her, carving white-hot zig-zag lines into the jet black clouds which had suffocated the rising moon. The recent thought of him and what he must have been through in the war had ignited something raw and awful within her, so she closed her eyes and squeezed onto the shawl once more. The agony seared into her chest like a burning hot poker and she took a sharp intake of breath as she tried to steady herself.

No sooner as she thought of him, she felt the rising panic and the agony pulling harder on her insides making her take another sharp intake of breath. Not wanting to dwell on her thoughts, she looked away from the window. The room behind her was dull and cold, the light on low and the bed still made from the night before. Once Anna had helped her dress for bed she had just sat in her chair and never made it beneath the sheets. There were always days where she couldn't quite make it under the covers, her body and mind trying not to remember the feel of him against her as they lay in each other's arms before they went to sleep. Life felt so cold and empty now and she had forgotten what it felt like to feel anything other than pain and a hollowing and coring unhappiness. The thunder clapped again and she raised her hands to her ears and closed her eyes tight, not knowing how to control the whirlwind going on inside of her, the panic taking hold and rising until it had nowhere to go.

"I need you, Matthew," she thought as the thunder rattled again in the distance, her breath catching in her throat.

Fear, pain, agony and anxiety swarmed over her like a suffocating blanket, pulling the air from her lungs and the warmth from her body. She just couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't stand it one bit. The voice of her Grandmother weighed heavy on her mind.

_"You have a straight forward choice before you. You must choose either death or life"_

* * *

"Mr Carson," Anna said anxiously as she pushed the door to his pantry open, stepping inside with great urgency.

"Anna, it's late a-"

"I know, and I'm sorry,' she pressed, closing the door behind her, moving nervously over to where Mr Carson was sat, his thick eyebrows furrowed across his forehead as he tried to gauge what was going on.

Carson could see the fear in her eyes as she moved into the small light rays being emitted from the lamp on his desk. The ledger he had been filling in was carefully put down on the desk and the pen into the holder on the table. "What is it? Is everything ok?"

"It's Lady Mary, Mr Carson," she said almost painfully.

Carson's stomach dropped, his mind instantly beginning to race through various scenarios. Feeling instantly on edge he rose from his chair. "What's happened? Is she ok?"

"I've looked everywhere. I know that she's been a bit absent lately and she hasn't been sleeping well, so I've been checking on her now and then. As she hadn't called for me this evening, and it was hitting nearly midnight I just went to see to her and she's not there." Anna put her hands together and squeezed tightly. "I have a bad feeling," she agonisingly whispered, her stomach churning unhappily as she anxiously moved on her feet.

Anna had been watching her carefully all day with an intense and worrisome curiosity. Lady Mary had been even more so introverted than the weeks previously, her eyes barely blinking and her face a deeper shade of pale. Anna had tried to strike up a conversation with her a few times, asking her about things she might like to wear, books she might want fetching or food she might like to eat. Normally, Lady Mary would bite back in a monotonous snap, her words tinged with bitterness and pain but instead she barely whispered back. The words were empty, quiet and deep in thought. Anna was sure it had been at least three days since she had eaten anything of note and for a woman who had lost so much weight since the loss of her beau, she didn't know how she had still been functioning.

"Lady Mary may just be in another part of the house? Is there such need for alarm?" he said, his voice peaking as he tried to hide the growing worry in the pit of his stomach. Of course, he had noticed how terribly unhappy she had been, and understandably so since Mr Crawley had been so tragically killed. The warm and wonderful soul, strong spirit and natural glow that she exuded had been sapped. When they were in the same room together he would watch her as she stared into the distance, memories of her husband ripping her to pieces. Carson could see her pain and agony, probably more than anyone else because he knew Lady Mary. All he wanted to do was make everything better for her, but of course, it was not his place to do so. Instead, all he could do is watch over her and do his best in the little things he could influence. Since their last conversation where he overstepped the mark she hadn't made eye contact with him, and this sat so heavily on his heart.

"I've checked everywhere I could think of. I thought she might have been with little George in the nursery or in a different room to get away from their bedroom. I can't find her. I'm really worried. I thought it best to come and see you first." Anna grimaced, hoping that her reasoning and judgement were sound.

Carson put his chair under his desk and moved to Anna, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Right you were, Anna. I think we should get some of the servants to sweep all of the unoccupied rooms first before we raise it with his Lord and Ladyship."

"I've been so worried about her. I know grief can do terrible things and I've been giving her the space she asked for, but today she really was not herself, even more so than normal."

Carson gave Anna's shoulder a firm squeeze to comfort her, and to give her a little reassurance that she had done the right thing. "We will put this right. Whatever it takes." When he let go of Anna's shoulder, he opened the door to his pantry and nodded his head to let Anna know they were going to go and sort the situation. Inside he knew that he must make it better, make sure his Lady Mary was ok, put right their relationship and help her. All he wanted to find was that it was all a misunderstanding and she was safe, sound and warm because the weather outside was unforgiving.

* * *

Mary kept her eyes closed, her whole body numb from the onslaught of freezing rain and wind. A dark haze had fallen upon her, the words her Grandmother uttered repeating monotonously. They went round in her head like a pinwheel of poison daggers, each one taking her further and further away from herself. The darkness that filled her was toxic, alluring and cold, pushing her deeper into herself as she contemplated it.

_"You have a straight forward choice before you. You must choose either death or life."_

_"You must choose either death or life."_

_"You must choose"_

"Death," she whispered painfully to herself.

There was nowhere to go. No light in her life or joy in her heart. She died with Matthew and what was left was nothing worthy of life. Why should she live whilst he is no more?

Calmness briefly washed over her as she gave in to the thought. It had been two weeks since her Grandmother had spoken to her and in those two weeks she had felt worse and worse, the pain penetrated every cell, thought, wish and need. It was the only way to make the pain go away.

The exhaustion that washed over her was almost instant, her body relieved that the onslaught was finally going to end. When her feet stopped she reached out to the surface ahead of her and let her knees give out beneath her, her whole body numb after walking for hours, her feet guiding her whilst her mind ran over and over. None of the steps she had taken she could remember, no conscious decision she had made could she pull to her brain and now she just had to let herself stop.

"Matthew," she whimpered, her head resting heavily on the hard surface she leant against.

_**Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I would very much appreciate feedback if you'd care to leave it. I've tried massively to keep the characters in line with the show and hope I conveyed them well. I have another 3 chapters written but just need to go through them before posting. I've nearly finished it as a whole, so I won't be long between posts!**_


	2. Chapter 2

Carson stood at the bottom of the stairs as a number of the servants made their way towards him. All but the bottom floor and the attics had been checked with impeccable thoroughness. When they had gone off on their search he had checked with the chauffeur to make sure that none of the cars had gone out that evening, to help eliminate the scenario that she had gone away. With the chauffeur confirming that nothing had gone out or come in Carson was sure that they would find her somewhere within the Abbey.

"I checked the attics, Mr Carson and I couldn't find her there," Thomas quipped; eager to see how the evening was going to unfold. Of course, if there was drama he was always happy to get involved and this always enraged Mr Carson. To him, working for such a family, such a good family meant that they should be shown an immense amount of respect. To him, Thomas never seemed to show any and that he was only out for himself.

"I checked all the rooms on the ground floor," Bates shook his head, looking to Anna with a sorry face, the distress painted so heavily on his beautiful woman's expression.

"That was quick,' Thomas smirked, looking at Bates as he leant into his cane. "Are you sure you checked them all? I know it takes you longer than the rest of us."

"Thomas!" Mr Carson said angrily, staring sternly at Thomas. "This is not the time for cheap comments. Lady Mary is missing and you find it acceptable and in good taste to make such comments at this time! I should like to remind you that Lady Mary has always been pleasant to you and I should hope you would be concerned about her welfare." The anger must have spread over his face like a rash, as the other servants around him recoiled at the boom of his voice. They were used to him being stern and Anna had sensed the strong undercurrent of worry in his expression and tone, she knew how much Lady Mary meant to him.

Thomas didn't react, just nodded his head, not even the smallest amount of remorse visible on his expressionless face.

"That's the whole house, apart from his Lord and Ladyships room, Lady Edith's and Mr Branson's." Carson's brain was running through all the possibilities as he tried to squash the panic that had planted itself in his chest. "I must raise the alarm with his Lordship and Ladyship."

* * *

Mary could feel nothing, hear anything or see anything, her mind ignoring any stimuli apart from the steady beating of her heart and her slow breaths.

_The life has gone from my world. There is no future for me._

* * *

Lady Grantham stood at the bottom of the stairs looking dishevelled as she held onto her husband's arm, a small lump forming in her throat as she leant helplessly into him. "Oh, Robert, where do you think she's gone?"

Robert shifted uneasily on his feet as he held onto his wife's hand. "I don't know, my dear. This is so terribly unlike her."

"Is it?" Edith chimed. "Come, Papa, she's been nothing but a shell these past few months. I would say she isn't like herself so why should she react in that way?" Inside Edith wasn't sure if it was some sort of ploy to get attention or cry for help but it still didn't stop a small bulb of worry sitting low in her stomach.

Carson couldn't tell if Lady Edith's comments were one of spite or concern but it was true. Carson pulled the shawl into view and moved towards his Lordship. "My Lord," he said quietly, gripping the shawl tight in his hand. "I found this caught in the front door. I think she's gone outside."

"In this weather? Oh, Robert!" She let go of her husband's arm and moved in front of him, taking both of his hands in hers.

Robert looked into his wife's eyes and felt the fear and panic beginning to rise within her so he pulled her into his arms, the underlying fear stirred by the loss of one of her children already. "Don't worry, my dear. If she's out there we will find her." When he felt her sink into his embrace he kissed her gently on the head before raising his gaze to Carson, who looked ever so pale. "Carson, I want you to ask some of the servants if they will help me look for my daughter-"

"I've already asked them, My Lord. In fact, most have gone out of their way to volunteer. They are all downstairs getting their coats. I've asked them to wait for us to decide on a plan of action."

Anna, who had been stood behind Carson stepped forward taking the shawl from his hand. "I want to help too if that's ok. I need to be there to help."

"Anna, it is much too dangerous out there at the moment. I think it best that you stay inside," Robert said quietly, his arm cradling his wife as she sighed heavily into his chest. "I would feel much happier if you would stay here and get some warm clothes and blankets ready for when we find her."

Tom Branson came down the stairs, his brown furrowed and his face concerned. "I'll get my coat and boots. Damn be known I know what it's like to lose the love of my life and it can make you do and think terrible things. She probably doesn't even know what she's doing."

Carson made eye contact with Tom and they both shared a knowing gaze, Tom's eyes acknowledging the worry behind the older man's eyes. "I don't think we should wait much longer, My Lord. I'm fearful that the weather is going to get worse," Carson pressed, turning to Anna as she stood wide-eyed. "Could you please quickly grab my coat and tell the servants waiting downstairs to meet us out the front. Could you also tell Mr Bates to bring his Lordship's heavy coat and walking boots."

Anna nodded glumly before turning to her Ladyship. "My Lady, would you like me to get the fire lit in the library where you can wait?"

Cora lifted her gaze and smiled ever so slightly as she nodded her head. "Robert, please be careful and find my daughter."

* * *

Lady Mary momentarily thought of her son.

"_You will not miss what you never knew, my dear boy. You will have your father's kindness, his eyes and his well-natured spirit I'm sure of it. I apologise deeply that I could not love you as a mother should, and care for you with the attention, softness and spirit you deserve. You'll understand one day, I hope."_

_**Thank you again for taking the time to read my story. I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. It's going to start ramping up soon :D Please leave a review if you like it, so I know what I'm doing right! And even wrong!**_


	3. Chapter 3

As Carson stepped over a log, he thought about the guilt that sat stagnant in his throat as he remembered back to the last conversation he had had with Lady Mary. There he had stood, bold as brass telling her what he thought she needed to hear.

_"You're letting yourself be defeated, My Lady. I'm sorry if it's a lapse to say so. But someone has to."_

Of course, he thought that he was doing the right thing after the conversation with Mr Branson. It had dawned on him that that ex-chauffeur knew very well what It felt like to be in Lady Mary's situation and the powerful look on his face had moved him slightly as he looked over at him, the conviction in his eyes.

_"Because she knows you only want the best for her."_

The words resonated with him because it was true; he only wanted what was best for Lady Mary. It is all he has ever wanted since he first laid eyes on her, for her to have the best. Years of watching her grow and change and develop the independence and demeanour of a woman so strong. How proud he was of everything she had become, the composure, the grace, the beauty and the stubbornness that was frustrating in some instances but something to also celebrate. The quiet moments they had shared, the many times he had been present to guide her, boost her confidence and help her through difficult days. It had been so important to him over the years to be there to guide her when she had lost her way, to pick her up when she had fallen and to smile when she had done something that made him laugh or warmed him. The night of their last conversation had probably not been the first time he had over-stepped the mark to do what he could to make something better, but it lay heavy on his mind none the less. What if he had somehow pushed her further into the terrible state she had found herself in? As silly as it sounded, she had always known and expressed that he was a constant source of support for her and it's like he had removed that bridge, separating her from that reliance she had known all of her life.

The rain was hitting his face like ice-cold razor blades, intent on committing as much physical pain as possible. Carson's solid frame was being beaten aggressively by the wind as it forced him to take a step backwards, his body bowing to nature's immense pressure like a knight to a King. The sheer defiance he had against it made him push on because he felt like he needed to do right and make it right, as well as getting Lady Mary back to safety.

To the left, Carson could make out a small orb of light that was coming from one of Lord Grantham's newly acquired flashlights. Carson had been unsure as to if they would work, but it was withstanding the elements fine. "My Lord," he called, his booming voice barely audible as the storm raged around them. They had made it into an area of woodland on the edge of the boundaries of the Abbey after sweeping through obvious places they thought she might be.

Carson could make out Thomas to his right who looked as if the air around him was filled with an invisible plague; his face doing its best to avoid the elements, although Carson chuckled to himself at the sheer ridiculousness of it. As he ducked to avoid a low lying branch he heard Thomas yell out as his hat was taken by the wind into the abyss behind him. What a shame.

The temperature had dropped quite dramatically since they had ventured out. Carson had felt the heat he carried with him ebb away into the air around him, the cold fingers in the atmosphere pushing into his skin like cold thorns. In this weather, he knew if he stopped it wouldn't be long until he was in serious trouble so he had to keep moving around. Of course, he wished that the estate were slightly smaller in this scenario; the grounds seemed as vast as the biggest ocean as they searched, trawled and shouted.

"Mary," Robert yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth, as most of the volume was lost into an incoming gust of wind. With a frustrated glare, he raised his hands impatiently as if to curse the wind itself.

As Carson looked around him he let out a long sigh, deeply troubled by the thoughts going around in his head and the situation they were facing. Why would Lady Mary go out and do this? What was she trying to achieve? Were the words that Tom had spoken about not knowing what she was doing true right now? Did she even realise where she was going? Or did she? But didn't care? "Oh, Lady Mary," he exhaled sadly. It also dawned on him that whatever worry he was feeling, no doubt his Lordship was feeling it ten-fold, even if he didn't show his emotions.

When the thunder rumbled above he felt the ground beneath him hum as the sound travelled around them. The storm was something else and it had been many many years since he had experienced such a thing.

Robert moved up beside Carson and put his hand on his shoulder. "Carson," he exasperated. "This is no use. Given our small numbers, we really must get some more people involved. It was an oversight on my behalf to not have done this sooner, I thought we would have found her by now in an obvious place."

"My Lord, this weather is making it much worse than it normally would."

"Yes. Very much so," he yelled above another strong gust of wind, his hand planted heavily on his head to stop his hat moving. "I think we should get as many people as we can from the village to increase our numbers and chances."

Carson bowed his head and turned to Thomas, pulling him in by his collar so that he could be heard. It was a bold move, he knew, but considering the mountain they were climbing he needed to get the point across quickly. "I need you to go back. We need more men. Get a message down to the village and see if we can get more people to help. I know it's late so try the Grantham Arms first."

Thomas nodded his head quickly, a slight tinge of elation on his face as he acknowledged the fact he would be able to get back into the warmth of the Abbey. "I'll do that, Mr Carson. Happily." Thomas turned on his heel as fast as Carson had ever seen him move, and sprung off into the distance.

Robert stood still temporarily as he pulled his coat as tight around his neck as he could, the wind seeking any form of weakness as it twisted, pushed and ventured under their layers. "Carson, let's push out this way."

"My Lord," he acknowledged as a shiver travelled through him. It was best to keep moving.

The trees around them were becoming sparser as they carried on walking into the woods. This made it even more eerie to him as the weather took advantage of their newfound openness, the wind able to catch them better and the lightning penetrating more of the air around them. When the lightning flashed it was even more blinding.

"Oh, Lady Mary. Please be ok. I couldn't bear anything happening to you," he thought to himself sadly, knowing the sentiment he had would be shared by both men.

* * *

Lady Mary's whole body shook as she sat there, the muscles in her body jerked and quivered in a deep effort to restore some sort of warmth to her frozen body. The nature-driven onslaught that enveloped her being was unforgiving, bashing and cutting cold deep invisible wounds into her skin. The dress she was wearing held no form of protection or respite from the weather and yet she still felt calm. It was like she had settled into the eye of the storm having battled through to get there, and this was where she was happy to stay.

When it felt like nothing would get better and all you could do is resign yourself to your fate there seemed no point in dwelling on what could be or what might be. Life before Matthew had been an uphill struggle and she had been so utterly thankful to give herself a break from that. When they had finally followed their hearts to each other and allowed their lives to become intertwined she had never felt so full of love. That small moment in her life when everything made sense and felt so completely right created a fire in her belly and warmth in her heart that she knew she would never achieve again. Matthew was the spark to this and without that, it would never burn. She knew that people found her cold and forthright and she struggled to maintain relationships even in her own family because she never waivered. Few people in her life accepted that. Sometimes her Mama and Papa even were exasperated with her decisions and comments but she knew that they cared for her, loved her in the way aristocrats loved their children, at arm's length. Sybil had seen through her outer shell, had loved her and cherished her for what she was. And then she was gone. Matthew had loved her, really SEEN her both on the inside and out, and then he was gone too. People just kept going.

Another shiver rippled through her body and she felt her muscles tense and shake in a way she had never experienced before, making her grit her teeth. When she adjusted her sitting position she felt her knees ache in protest as they were pushed away from their settled position, the blood rushing back down her legs. As she took in a breath, it hitched in her throat as she tried to fight the convulsive reaction in her muscles.

Time, they said, would heal her open wounds. Time, they said, would make her return to normal. Love, they said, was better to have and lose than to never have at all. And yet, here she was, nearly 7 months since the birth of her son and death of her husband and not a slither of light could she see and now she welcomed the darkness to take her away.

"My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!" she whispered to herself as she tried to fight another deep and shaking shiver.**

**Thank you again for taking the time to read this chapter. I've been drilling this out as quickly as I can around work, and it's taken a lot of reshaping, moving sections around and getting in some more detail. I love it though. I wanted to talk about how it would be from multiple people so in some of the later chapters you'll read a bit more from some of the other characters :) Let me know what you think if you'd like. I would love to hear some opinions!**

** This was written by Edna St. Vincent Milla who did a lot of poem writing in the era Downton is set. Mary likely picked it up over the years and liked it so wanted to include it.


	4. Chapter 4

Mrs Hughes sat in her office thumbing at some papers as she nervously eyed the time. Inside she was torn between cursing Charlie Carson and admiring him. There were so many young whippersnappers in the house and the village that could be out there in this abhorrent weather instead of him, but there he was, out trying to save _his_ Lady Mary. Of course, she didn't detest Lady Mary, and she was fond of her to a degree but it grated on her that she had such a hold on him. However, she kept musing and fleeting between berating him and respecting that he had been there since the start of her life and without having any family or loved ones, it was only natural considering the job to become emotionally attached. Years before, he had exclaimed out of the blue that they were all the family he had.

The thunder rumbled above, and she shook her head. "Oh Charlie, you bloody fool."

Feeling impatient she stood from her chair and moved down the hall and entered his pantry, the space unusually cold and empty. Moving to his desk, she reached over and put the light on before looking at the small fire grate to the side. Should she light it? Well, she knew he would berate her for lighting it herself but everybody was busy and it would only take a moment. It would most likely be best to get it lit for she hoped he would be back soon and she wanted to see how he was. Rather than going up to his room she thought this would be a better place to chew his ear than anywhere else. The past few weeks had been hard on him, even though he hated admitting it, and she knew that he didn't have to verbalise it for her to understand him. Over the years she had adjusted to the unique ways in which he showed certain emotions and this helped her anticipate his actions and cater to them. Not that it was her job to do that, but she was fond of him. Really fond of him. Although her job made it hard to transcend into anything more than people who ran a house together, she enjoyed his company and would never want to see him hurting.

The small table that sat in his pantry, where they would often share a drink, still held a bit of paper that she had left there almost a week or so ago. It was only a list of china cups he had asked for, nothing important. That was very unlike him. Charlie Carson was a man that took propriety very seriously and had an eye for detail and could pick out the most obscure blemish that even she could miss. It should have been placed away by now, so she quickly picked it up and placed it on his desk on another small pile of well-organised papers. "There," she whispered, nodding her head satisfied with her actions not wanting him to scold himself over missing it.

The conversation that she had had with him, the night she had given him that piece of paper, had taken place almost two weeks previous. As she had come down the stairs she had picked up the tray of tea that Daisy had made for her before bed and walked straight to his pantry, having noticed he had been awfully off for the entire day. Everyone had retired for the evening, and it was late, yet he hadn't gone up to bed himself and she didn't know of anything outstanding for him to complete. Inside, as she'd entered, she briefly caught sight of his face before it adjusted at the sound of an intruder and it was a sorry state. There he sat, his eyes downcast and his chin resting on his chest. Although his lips were normally naturally pursed, they drew downwards to the point she thought that they might fold in on themselves. It had all been so off since Lady Mary's outburst at dinner, and she had known it had something to do with her. It normally did.

Usually, once the house went quiet in the evenings they were able to spend some time together before they too followed suit to their beds. Although it had become a professional habit, the pair of them comparing notes and going over various jobs and things that needed attention, it had also become a personal habit. After a busy day, they could sit and relax, the pair of them mature enough to hold a conversation and get enjoyment out of the small things they had in common. The few days previous, he had declined, offered excuses and had even gone straight to bed.

"Oh, Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson had grumbled, lining up a group of papers on his desk to make himself appear busy. "I was just about to go to bed, I only just realised how late it was."

"The world could be burning away and you probably wouldn't notice, Mr Carson. I've brought you some tea. We haven't been able to catch up for a few days."

Carson had eyed her curiously and then nodded in agreement before he rose from his desk chair to take residence in his other seat. "I've been ever so busy these past few days."

"Yes, and distractedly so," she had chided as she made him his tea. "I've got the list of china cups you asked for." Then she had put the paper onto the table.

At first, they sat in silence and she followed his eyes as he had looked at her. Of course, she had noticed straight away that he was trying to gauge her angle by the way his head always tilted ever so slightly when doing so. Then he had shaken his head and inhaled before letting out an almighty sigh. "I know," he had said to her quietly.

"I know you know, Mr Carson… But tell me anyway."

Then, it had taken him a few moments to wrestle with what to tell her, that slightly withdrawn look in his eyes. "I have mistakenly overstepped my mark, and in doing so, upset Lady Mary."

"Mr Carson, you know as well as I that Lady Mary is your Achilles heel and probably one of the only ways you have and would ever cross the line," she had paused momentarily to allow him to speak but he never said a word. "What happened?" she pressed gently.

Carson had recalled the event that took place and Mrs Hughes pictured the sorry look of dismay on his face as he had finished. It had been a temporary breach in his emotional suit of armour that he carried with him at every hour of the day. She knew that he chastised himself for his actions, allowing himself to get to that point, not upholding himself to his high standards. There hadn't been many times over the years where he had openly shown his emotions to her. Normally she picked up the subtle hints and behaviours and made the deduction herself. Most recently it had been when she had found out she didn't have cancer and she had overheard him singing jollily whilst polishing some silver. It made her happy that he had been so elated with the news. It had solidified that he was much more fond of her than she had initially thought.

"Sometimes people get angry when they hear something they don't want to. What you said to her was very much a home truth, Mr Carson. I believe that you were correct. I just don't think she can rationally think and feel anything at the moment. And can you blame her really?" She had allowed him to take in her words. "However, I do wish you'd just told me sooner instead of hiding away in here alone every evening sulking."

"I was not sulking," he had retorted. "I have been busy."

"Oh yes, I'm sure." She remembered the way he looked at her as she had smirked, his lips rising into that little smile he did. They had shared a long gaze before she had put her cup down. "You know me, Mr Carson. I fight the good fight with you. Always." And how true it was.

No more words were required on the subject after that, and they spent the rest of the time talking work as usual. She could tell he had been thankful for her words. After that, his spirits had perked up somewhat but she knew that he was still very much aware of the coldness between Lady Mary and himself, and yet he still watched over her in his own little way, doing little things. Maybe it gave him hope or helped justify what took place and no doubt he hoped that it would work itself out.

There was a deep rumble in the air again and it brought her back to his pantry. "Oh, what a mess," she said to herself before getting some coal to start the fire in his pantry. Whether it was wishful thinking that he would be back soon or even in a fit state to talk, or just her being practical, she thought she better do something.

* * *

Robert and Carson continued into the woods, exhaustion was beginning to tug at them both and they would frequently pause to catch their breath and give themselves a moment to recoup. It was a hard battle that both of them hadn't experienced in years, their bodies not as youthful and energetic as they used to be, and the weather sapping at them like a leach.

Carson took a breath, his calves aching and exclaiming at every step he chose to take. The rain had soaked through every layer, creating a moist barrier that clung to his skin and made every gust of wind feel like the air was ice. As his cheeks puffed out, his lungs aching and back seizing he could make out his employer bent over, the rain and weather forcing him into a temporary act of submission. "My Lord," Carson called, righting himself as he moved over to him. "I think you should go back to the house temporarily to get your energy back. I'll continue."

Robert shook his head angrily, a driving force sitting deep within his gut, the fear and worry for his daughter keeping him moving in any way he could. Of course, he couldn't go back to the house empty-handed, not wanting to upset his wife any more than she was. "Not at all. I cannot give in. I must find her," he paused seeming to struggle with himself. "I-I C-"

"My Lord, we will find her," Carson interrupted.

"I can't lose another, Carson. I just can't." Robert averted his eyes and turned his head and Carson could see him exhale before shaking his head, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Unaccustomed to his employer expressing emotion in such a way, and putting it partly down to exhaustion and the physical onslaught, he allowed him to gather himself. In this moment, in this situation, Carson saw him not as an Earl or a Lord, but as a man and a father distraught by the uncertainty of where his daughter was and if she was ok. They had an understanding, the two of them that had been built up over many years. Carson had witnessed multiple sides to his Lordship, heard many things in which he probably shouldn't have, and had, when asked, given his opinion on issues.

"I'm sorry, Carson. I don't know what came over me. Please don't think less of me," Robert almost pleaded.

"No My Lord, I would never."

"Thank you. I know this must be ghastly for you too," he said knowingly, fully aware of the relationship his Butler had with his eldest daughter. Even though it was never spoken of, he wasn't stupid and could very well see and tell that Carson loved his daughter unconditionally. Some would have issues with that, but after everything that the family had been through over the years, he was thankful that there was someone else on their side, that had her best interests at heart.

Carson knew that they were overdue a catch-up, having arranged to send word to the house every hour or so just in case she had been located. Being so focused on locating her meant that they had lost track of time somewhere, fraught with worry and not wanting to let up their search. It was important now to get that message back and ensure that they were not searching in vain. A part of him did wonder if someone would have been to find them by now if she had been found.

They both stood in silence for a moment; drawing up the energy to continue moving forward but Carson was also having a deep think. There had to be something more that they could do, something that could really help them. Yes, more men, and hopefully they would be here soon, but maybe something else. Then it dawned on him that they did have a tool at their disposal that they had neglected.

"My Lord, I have an idea if you would entertain it," he said excitedly.

"Yes, my good man. What is it?"

"Isis, my Lord. The dog has been used on hunts before and you know as well as I that she has a wonderful nose." Carson had heard plenty of stories of when Isis had saved the day.

"Yes, she has never let me down when we've been unable to locate the catch," Robert said enthusiastically, putting his hand on his Butler's shoulder, pleased with the idea.

"I think you should get her, My Lord. You know that she heels to you." Carson had, on several occasions, been shown up by the dog who must, like its owner, know the hierarchy in the house. Over the years he had seen a number of dogs in the house, but Isis was one of a kind when it came to character.

"Yes. Yes. Very good, Carson. Very good." Robert temporarily forgot about the fear he had felt not long ago about venturing back to the house empty-handed. Although he knew it mustn't be long until the villagers arrived, he also knew that Isis would be better than twenty, even thirty men. "I'll make haste and head back up to the house. Will you come?"

Carson didn't even think about a reply, because he knew he would not go back to the house. "No, My Lord. I'll continue."

Feeling slightly concerned, Robert pressed. "I don't want you to get lost too."

Carson shook his head. "I'll be fine, My Lord. I think that having one person still searching keeps the odds in our favour."

Robert squeezed his shoulder in gratitude and turned the flashlight towards the other man as an offering. "Take the flashlight then. I'll get Isis, and hopefully some more people and then I'll be back. Try to keep in a straight path that way from where we are so I know roughly the direction you're heading."

"Yes, My Lord."

"And thank you, Carson. Really."

"Always, My Lord." The men shared a brief knowing gaze before separating. Carson turned the light into the distance, although its impact was not very strong, it helped somewhat. Thunder groaned above and he realised that either the time between claps was longer or he had just become immune to it.

* * *

Mary pulled the hem of her dress instinctively around the bottom of her legs as she raised them closer to her body, tucking them up as close as she could to her chest. It felt like if she tried to stand she would fail miserably, all of her energy had vanished into the abyss of the storm. Of course, she didn't know how long she had been sat there now but decided that now her head had begun to fog up, and she had no more energy to go anywhere else, that she should just lie down for a while. The time would come soon enough. It would be done.

One of her fingers kept itself pressed to a small patch of bark which was now just above her head. Instinctively she ran her fingers over the surface, letting the edges run through the purposely-made grooves. Of course, she would end up here. It was almost bittersweet.

"I remember what you said to me, Matthew. And how wrong you were."

**Thank you for the lovely reviews so far :) I really appreciate it. I also love the Carson/Hughes dynamic and how they care for each other so I had to pop a bit of that in there. As this has moved I've become aware of how it's more about the other characters over Mary, with just little snippets into her mental state. It'll come back to her some more as it goes on, but for now, I'm really enjoying the dipping in and out of other people's thoughts and ideas. As we all know, actions have consequences to the many in a house like Downton. Please, let me know what you think, I love hearing what you all have to say :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Robert stepped onto the wide stoned driveway just outside the house, the wind pushing him from behind making a welcomed reprieve from the head-on battle he had been previously accustomed to. A part of him was dreading the response at the sight of his empty arms and slightly broken demeanour. As he walked up to the door, lifting his shoulders back to mirror the sheer defiance and determination he still felt at finding his daughter, he heard the rumbling of an engine behind him. When he turned around to face it he could barely make out the headlights beneath the harrowing rain, the rays lost and disbanded as the raindrops were forcefully removed from their previously destined trajectory.

Tom jumped out of the cab, his body relatively unscathed from the weather. "I've been driving around the outer rim to see if she was out there. I also drove down to the village and checked to see if she had checked into the Arms on the off chance. I spoke to a few of the villagers and they want to help, so they're gathering and coming up as soon as they can."

Robert, keen to get out of the rain, even for a temporary reprieve, took Tom by the elbow and dragged him towards the door. "Thank you, Tom. Let's get inside."

The door opened for them and the warmth hit them like a burning blanket, their skin stinging as it adjusted to the drastic change in temperature. As they entered, Cora turned on her heel to look behind her, having just begun ascending the stairs. Robert locked eyes with her, her face creased with apprehension, expecting her daughter to be with them. When she realised that she wasn't there, she turned and ran back down the stairs towards them, shaking her head and putting her hand to her mouth. "Nothing?"

Robert shook his head unhappily, stepping back to keep his wet figure away from his wife, guilt tearing him up on the inside at the look of sheer disappointment on her face. "No. The weather is making it frightfully difficult. Carson is searching the woods, Bates is going East of the house with some more of the servants and Tom has been out in the car. He went down to the village to check the Arms and asked for some help. Thomas should have rung down to the village too so we should have many more people to help soon. We will find her, my dear."

Cora put her hand on his drenched arm, the freezing dampness sapping the warmth from her hand. When she glanced at her husband's face sympathetically she could see the blue tinges to his nose and cheeks and the sadness in his eyes. "I think we should get you in front of the fire, Robert."

Robert shook his head sadly, ignoring the way his skin was burning as the warmth permeated his ice-cold skin. "No, I came to get Isis. A dogs nose works a thousand times better than any sense we all use put together."

"How about we get you into some dry clothes, my love," Cora begged, worried that the weather was going to make her husband quite unwell. The closer she got to him, the more she could feel the coldness emanate from his body as it tried its best to battle the warmth around it.

"What's the point?" Robert agonised, listening to the rain continue its merciless assault. "I'm only going to get wet again when I go out."

"Yes," Cora sighed, taking her husband's hand. "I feel sick with worry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Robert rubbed the top of his wife's hand with his freezing thumb. "Phone Mama and Cousin Violet and let them know what's happening. I know it's late, but if Mary has somehow made her way there they should at least be expecting her. I also think you should phone Dr Clarkson."

Cora shook her head. "What? Why? You don't think-"

"No, my dear. I just want him to know the situation. When we find her she could have been out in this freezing weather for hours and I don't want to risk any delay in getting her the attention she may need. I also would like him to be here for exposure treatment for the servants if it is so required." The expression on his face softened as he gazed into her eyes, he reached up to her cheek and caressed it gently. "Once you've made the phone calls could you please take yourself to the warmth of your bed or to the library where I know they have made a jolly good fire for you. Have you been sitting in there?"

"I did," she said coyly, pulling her gown tight around her. "I got bored and impatient sitting on my own. Edith went to check a few of the rooms herself, God knows why, but I think it makes her seem useful. I was going to make sure she was ok when you came in."

Robert nodded. "I think you should call Anna to be with you in the library. I know she will be fretting and wishing she was joining us in the search."

Cora nodded. "Yes, she will."

"Now, my darling, I need to go and get the dog and get back to Carson."

* * *

Carson braced himself against a tree as a huge gust rushed past him, the power of the wind having increased in the last half an hour until it took him almost all of his might to move forward. It had been hard for him to keep his bearings as he had moved deeper into the woods, the trees above blocking any sort of light that remained in the sky. A few times he had found himself close to toppling as he had caught himself on a stick or felt his foot drop into a dip in the ground. He had to remember that he wasn't a young man anymore and it was always going to be harder for him to navigate over such terrain but that didn't stop him pushing forward.

There was a fallen tree a few yards ahead of him and he decided to give himself a bit of a reprieve to allow him to catch his breath. No more than 5 minutes he had told himself. As he sat he rested the flashlight between his legs so it was pointing upwards.

The longer he was outside, the more worried he became and the more he longed to find her safe and sound. In this weather, exposure could take you so very quickly and he had to remind himself that he was also being susceptible to it. As he looked down at his hands, annoyance rose over him and he chided himself for forgetting to put his gloves on in haste as he tried to get out of the house. Now, he could see that the ends of his fingers were deep red, almost blue and they had gotten to the point where he could hardly feel them anymore. As the wind rushed past him he tucked them under his armpits and watched as his breath filled the air ahead of him in small expanding clouds. Another gust rushed past him and he felt his body contort as it lurched into a strong spasm that then manifested into hard shivering. The gloves were still in his pocket so he reached to get them, his fingers fumbling as he tried to get them over his fingers, the apparent coordination it took to do so having lapsed. They were wet, but he hoped that they would give him a little respite from the cold.

Over the years, Carson had experienced every kind of weather, and since he took up his job as Butler he had managed to keep himself out of it for the best part. This storm was vicious, unforgiving and relentless with no let-up in sight. It took him back to a storm just the same which hit in the January of 1895, knocking over a few of the smaller trees whose roots could not save them. Lady Mary had been around four years old, and he remembered how it had frightened her so.

It had been late, everyone had retired early and he had been doing his final walk around before he retired for the evening himself. There was a bit of a chill in the air, the fires doing their best to combat the draught and keep the residents warm. On his rounds, he always made it a part of his route to walk past the nursery to check on the children before he made his way to his own bed. That night the wind had howled a gale and it sounded like a banshee screaming around the building, fraught on getting inside. The door to the nursery was open slightly, a dim light seeped into the corridor and he had heard a little whimper so he popped his head around the door.

Sat on the edge of her little bed was Lady Mary, the tears rolled down her face as she clung to a small bear that had been gifted to her from her Aunt Rosamund some weeks before. In the crib, he could make out little Lady Edith who was oblivious to the gales and thunder outside and the nanny who was snoring lightly in her bed. It seemed the sleeping woman had not noticed the distressed child in the room and even then, Carson knew that she wouldn't last long in the role, especially if he had anything to do with it.

Carson couldn't leave her like that and had pushed the door open so he could ease himself in. "Miss Mary?" he said softly knowing that his voice had a bit of a natural boom to it.

When little Lady Mary had realised it was him, she clambered down from her bed, her little feet dangling off of the edge and made her way over to him. Oh, how scared and unhappy she had looked in that moment, her hands still wrapped tightly around the bear's arm. Not one word had she said to him, all too aware at such a young age that it was best not to wake Edith from her sleep, or an adult who was grumpy enough without being woken from her slumber.

Carson had kept a smile on his face as she walked over to him. "What's wrong, Miss Mary?"

As soon as she had made it to him she had instinctively wrapped her arms around his thigh and sobbed hard into his trouser leg. Carson had placed his hand protectively onto her head, his stomach had knotted at how upset she was. A thunderclap had rumbled loudly above them and he had felt her jump, her little body shook as the fear gripped her. Carson sensed that the storm was the reason for her unhappiness so he loosened her grip on his leg and bent down so he could look into her eyes. "How about we go for a little walk? Then you could tell me what's wrong. Is that ok?"

Lady Mary had nodded her little head at him as he leant out a hand for her to take. At first, she had looked at his open palm but dismissed it and held open her arms to be lifted. It was not the first time she had done that to him and he had obliged immediately, scooping her up into his arms.

Carefully he had walked down the stairs into his pantry, the fire still warm although the embers had begun to fade somewhat. The little girl, not wanting to be put down clung to his neck so he sat himself in the chair by the fire and settled her into his lap.

"Now, Miss Mary, will you tell me what's wrong?" he had said softly as he searched for her eyes, the tears still very much apparent in her gaze.

Carson remembered the way she had looked at him, those big beautiful brown eyes searched him momentarily before she had looked down at her bear. Even then he had known that she had a sturdy core that was not rattled easily. However, it had been the first proper storm that she had experienced in her little life, and it would have sounded like the world was likely ending. It was obvious she had not wanted to make a fuss, something that had grown with her as the years had gone by and she had suffered in silence in her room. Carson had wondered if she would have sat there all night, rather than reaching out to someone, so it was lucky that he had been nearby.

"Carson," she had whispered as she wrapped her arms around the bear. "The noise, the loud bang and whirly noise from outside are scary. I don't know what it is. I do not understand it and I'm scared by it."

Carson had admired how well-spoken she was at such a young age, her mind matured as each day passed and that strong little personality of hers thrived. "Miss Mary. It is just a thunderstorm."

"A thun-der-storm," she repeated, her little mind had set into motion some cogs as she had tried to process the word. "What is it?"

Down in the bottom of the house, it was harder to hear the weather outside, but he had still felt the rumbling of the thunder. The lightning, however, was harder to notice. It had taken him a moment to think about how best to explain it to a four-year-old, but he had known she was intelligent for her age. "Thunder is a noise made when lightning is formed."

"Light-ning," she had repeated to him. "What's that?"

"Lightning is a flash of light made in the sky when the weather is right," not wanting to overcomplicate it he had tried to keep it simple. "But do not worry, it is nothing to be scared of. It sounds much worse than it is, especially inside a house like this."

As he had looked down at her he could see that she had seemed happy with his description as simple as it was. The thunder rumbled around them again and she didn't recoil like she had done, obviously trusting him instantly when he had said it was nothing to be scared of. It was not the first time she had come to him over the years with worries, fears, tales, jokes and questions. "Would you like to go back to bed, Miss Mary?"

"No. I'm not tired," she had said strongly, the conviction in her eyes and stubbornness at the thought of going back to bed. Carson had noticed, even then, that she had enjoyed his company. It was almost like a break for her to be down there with him, they talked, he showed her things, taught her things and had even let her have a cup of very milky tea from time to time.

Carson had known what her new interest had been, as they had done some of it not too long before that night. So he had popped her down gently, walked over to his desk and had pulled out a little book that was full of crisp blank pages. There was a small pen next to it, which he had also scooped up and taken to the little table. As he had placed it down he had noticed her eyes grow wide, and a smile spread across her face. Placing the bear onto the desk she had quickly ran forward and turned the papers over, taking the pen to the page she had been to last, and looked at her work.

"I do adore this picture, Carson. Look," she had exclaimed happily. "It's you and I drinking tea."

Carson remembered how he had beamed at her, so proud of her little picture, which he had said that was far beyond her years. The nose, which she had elongated unnecessarily, had made him laugh. "It's a truly magnificent picture," he had said softly.

Lady Mary had gazed up at him with such delight at his words, and then had turned to it and wrote her name at the bottom with a small little love heart. "Can you rip it out for me please?"

Carson had been confused, at first, by her question. "Why ever so, Miss Mary?"

She had paused with a little grin on her face. "I want you to keep it forever."

Carson's heart had warmed and grown by at least three sizes at that moment, he had felt so proud of her. That picture she had made sat still, all these years later, inside his desk inside that book which he could never part with. It brought back many fond memories for him and reminded him of simpler times.

A deep rumbling thunderclap brought him back to the present, his body shivering as his body cooled from the lack of moments. "Oof," he exclaimed. "Must keep moving." And in the moments after he could still feel the warmth that the memory had given him. She meant so very much to him.

* * *

Mr Bates walked quickly up the yard towards the back door, his hat pushed far onto his head to keep as much of the rain from his face as he could. It had been very hard on him, the trek around the estate, but he would not let his employer down or his wife. Although Lady Mary was a part of the family that employed them, she was very much someone that his wife held dear. In a backwards sort of way, she was Anna's friend. They talked, they laughed and they gave each other advice. In his eyes, she was one of the best friends his wife had and that was one of the main driving forces to getting her back. For Anna.

Pushing open the door with force, he entered the building, the cold snapping at him from behind like ravenous dogs as he closed the door. It took him a moment to compose himself, his leg sore and his back aching from the compensatory movements he had been using to ease as much weight away from his bad leg. As he had been out on the search, he had thought heavily about how the family he served had had such terrible luck. To some others, they would be happy that someone with as much money and power as Lord Grantham had had such luck, like a slap from the world for being born into such splendour and security. They were good people. They had, on numerous occasion shown him, his wife and most of his fellow servant's such kindness and care even though they, to some, would not be so deserving. Carson was a man of propriety and dignity and demanded such high standards from them all and this was something that Bates agreed with. Their masters were worthy of that in his eyes and Anna's. Why else would they stay there?

"Are you ok, Mr Bates?" Mrs Patmore said, her head peeking around the corner, the little tufts of orange hair sticking out of her hat as haphazardly as they normally did. "I 'erd the door open and wondered if there were any news."

"No, Mrs Patmore. I'm afraid not. I was just coming back to give an update like we are meant to every hour and see if there was any news myself." He walked into the kitchen and watched as she lifted the kettle off of the stove.

"That wind is blowin' like a banshee in a belltower. I've not 'erd anythin' like that in many years. You must be freezin' beyond belief. Let me get you some tea." She grabbed a teapot and a cup, eyeballing Daisy with a disapproving gaze as the young girl fiddled with her apron. "Your cheeks are almost blue!"

"I will be fine, thank you, Mrs Patmore. I have suffered worse than this in my life." He nodded courteously and took his hat from his head so he could wipe down his face with his already wet handkerchief.

"No, we've not heard nothin'" Daisy sighed, putting some pans into their rightful places on the sideboard. "His Lordship came back not too long ago to fetch Isis to help. Thomas has phoned down to the village to get some more people and Mr Branson went out in the car but he's back now."

Mr Bates nodded solemnly before putting his hat down. "Is Anna ok?"

Mrs Patmore handed Mr Bates the warm cup of tea. "She's terribly worried about Lady Mary, as you rightly know. Mrs Hughes is keeping an eye on her. Last I saw of 'er, she was heading upstairs to the library to see her Ladyship."

Bates sighed as he looked into the creamy complexion of his tea. "Yes, I suppose she is. I suspect that she puts some of the blame of the event on herself. I know my wife and she will likely be thinking she should have spotted it sooner or realised Lady Mary was about to do something silly." Both of his hands cupped the warm tea, letting the warmth seep into his skin.

"She is soft like that," Mrs Patmore said quietly, pouring herself and Daisy a cup.

"Not soft, Mrs Patmore. She is a good woman and cares terribly for Lady Mary. Never soft. Always strong."

"I didn't mean offence, Mr Bates. I just meant not many would be so worried about such a thing," Mrs Patmore replied softly, taking a seat at the table.

Mr Bates nodded. "I know you didn't, don't worry."

Silence came over the kitchen briefly as they all got lost in their own thoughts about the situation, all hoping for a swift and positive outcome. They all knew too well what would happen if anything bad were to come of Lady Mary, especially after the tragic events that took place with Lady Sybil and Mr Crawley. All of them were fond, to a degree, of Lady Mary and would never see anything ill happen to her. Some people would scoff and perhaps think that she was facing something that common folk experience all the time, hardship and loss, almost embedded into their genetic makeup. They make what best they can of the world and work hard to keep and maintain that.

"Would it be correct to assume that his Lordship is still here?" Bates enquired, realising that he had taken too much time sitting down.

Mrs Patmore shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure. I doubt he would have gone out so soon, but your guess is as good as mine. Thomas might know, you know how close he likes to keep himself to things like this," she grimaced before taking a sip of her tea.

Puzzled, Mr Bates put the tea down onto the table. "He's not back out on the search?"

"Is he 'eck," she scoffed. "Have you ever know that man to give a slither more than expected?"

Mr Bates smiled wryly, lifting himself up from his chair before grabbing his cane. "I fear I can not fittingly answer that question in the presence of a young lady. Thank you for the tea, Mrs Patmore."

"You've not touched it," Daisy exclaimed.

"I daren't stop. I appreciate it none the less. Hopefully, I will see you with good news soon."

Daisy tilted her head to the side and nervously grabbed the top of her apron, watching as Mr Bates turned his back to leave the kitchen. "Mr Bates? Is Alfred searching with you?"

Stopping in his tracks, Mr Bates smiled, turning to face Daisy, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Mrs Patmore had rolled her eyes in an exacerbated manner. "Yes, Daisy, and he is doing so with great resilience and effort. Goodbye."

Picking the tea that Mr Bates had left on the side up, Daisy smiled at the response to her question. "That's good."

Nearly knocking Mr Bates over, Mrs Hughes came into the kitchen, her brow knitted above her eyes, as she was lost in her thoughts. "Oh, Mr Bates, I'm sorry," she mumbled tiredly. "I wasn't paying any attention, you'll have to forgive me." It had been a long day for them all, and she was feeling emotionally drained on top of her usual head housekeeper exhaustion. It was troubling her deeply, and she knew that the situation would have been playing heavily even more so on Mr Carson who was out in the terrible weather in the search for his Lady Mary. "Any news?"

Mr Bates shook his head, watching as the head housekeeper leant heavily against the table. "No Mrs Hughes. I'm afraid not. Is his Lordship still here?"

Nodding her head slowly, lifting herself away from the table she sighed. "I think he is just about to head out with Isis. Poor dog doesn't know what's going to hit it."

"It's a bloody dog, not a silk shawl." Mrs Patmore exclaimed. "It'll be fine. Bit o' wind and water might do it the world of good."

Exhausted and in no mood to argue, Mrs Hughes nodded with an almost contemptuous smile, her tiredness making her most irritable. "Well, yes, I'm sure. Anyway, Mr Bates, if we head up now we will probably catch him before he leaves."

"Yes, very good. I think it best I give him an update before he leaves, ask him if we should redirect ourselves or look elsewhere. Shall we?" As she turned to leave the kitchen, he stepped to one side moving his arm out to allow her past.

* * *

Carson had his arms wrapped tightly around him as he trudged slowly, his pace having halved as his body battled the cold that had seemed to have sunk deep into his bones. The chill was bitter, suffocating and his lungs ached with each breath he took, the wind had died down slightly, which offered little reprieve as his core felt like ice.

The torch beam had dimmed a little as the battery had begun to wear, so he used it sparingly when the darkness became too much for his eyes which had adjusted reasonably well and he used his peripheral vision a lot. Ahead of him, however, he could make out the great oak tree of the estate that had been there for perhaps four hundred years by the sheer size of it. The tree itself stood tall above the trees around it, but its pièce de résistance was the magnificently broad trunk. It would take at least five men to reach around its girth and he had seen it a few times over the years. The ground around it bulged where the roots protruded from beneath, but they must run deep because the tree looks sturdy. The branches above barely moved beneath the pressure of the wind, the tree standing tall and defiant. The trunk itself had grown in such a way so that it was almost hollow on the inside, a little cove where he knew the children used to play when they were younger. Lady Sybil had always had the best imagination and frequently would tell him of the cave or tunnel they had turned it into. One of the side branches was quite low, having had grown down, and it made it easy for the children to climb into its depths.

Carson reached up to touch the bark, feeling the hum that came where the wind had pushed itself into the hollow trunk, a light whistle where it squeezed into the smallest of the gaps. It was a magnificent specimen and, along with the storm, reminded him how amazing and brutal nature could be.

The hollowed trunk came into his sights as he walked around and inside, and his foot hit something on the ground. There, lying down on the floor was Lady Mary and instantly Carson dropped to his knees forgetting about how his legs had been aching and his back hurting.

"Lady Mary," he exasperated, moving his knees towards her. "Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

The silence that came back was deafening and he momentarily began to panic.

* * *

**Sorry, this turned out to be such a long chapter, but I had to keep running with it and I needed a bit of Mrs Patmore in here somewhere as she always makes me laugh. I hope you enjoyed this part :) I'm on holiday from Monday for a few days so if I get chance I'll do a little bit here and there. If not, I'll get back onto it when I'm back. I have the rough outline and body done for the next chapter but it needs a bit of work. Let me know what you think :D Feedback helps me know if I'm going in the right direction and what you all like! :D Thanks again for all your support. **


	6. Chapter 6

Mr Bates trailed behind Mrs Hughes as they walked towards the library where a thin stream of light shone onto the floor from the gap in the door. They could both hear the exasperated words of their employer who was talking quietly, by the sounds of it, to his wife. Mrs Hughes paused and looked back at Bates before nodding and knocking the door.

The fire that sat proudly in the middle of the room was roaring loudly, the flames crackling and popping within the grate. The air was warm and comforting and a nice relief from the chill of downstairs. Sat at the end closest to the fire was her Ladyship who had been staring into the depths of the flames before turning her head to look at the pair of them as they entered. No words needed to be said because her expression told them everything. Normally, even when she was walking around the house she had a very amiable expression and was friendly with them all. Now, she sat with a furrowed brow, the thin lines that sat around her eyes and forehead were creased with worry and Mrs Hughes could tell that although she was aware and present in the room, her mind was running and thinking and worrying.

"My Lord. My Lady," Mrs Hughes said quietly.

"Mrs Hughes. Bates," Robert said softly in return, his eyes staring pointedly at Mr Bates in the background rather than his female colleague, hoping to hear some news.

Bates, as soon as he had noticed his wife, watched her carefully as she stared aimlessly out of the window. Outside they could see the rainfall and debris fly around in lofted and unexpected directions as it was taken by the wind. Anna's expression was easy to read, as it was most of the time and he could feel her hurting from where he stood.

"Any news, Bates?" Cora said expectedly.

Bates grimaced and shook his head as he moved closer towards them, his leg tight and sore. "I do not bring good news but I wanted to catch you, My Lord, before you went out again."

"Bates, my dear man. Firstly, before you speak, I want to thank you for helping with the search. I truly appreciate it. Know that." Robert reached forward and put his hand on Bates' shoulder.

"Of course, My Lord. Please, do not thank me, for I would do it for any of you." Mr Bates bowed his head before adjusting his stance. "We have covered as far East as the outer boundary with no joy. Would you like us to sweep further than the boundary or would you like us to move to another destination?"

"Oh Bates, I would very much like you to go and get the ones you search with to come to assist me in the woods. It's a frightfully big place and needs many men to cover it. When the villagers get here they can go through the other parts."

Bates contemplated for a short moment before shaking his head. "No, my Lord, I think it better if we continue on a more broader approach. I will come with you and bring Thomas and I'll send word to Alfred and the others to continue their search in a southerly direction." If Bates could smirk at the fact that he could potentially pull Thomas from his warmth within the house, he would, but it was not the time or place so he did it internally.

"Yes, yes that is much better. Bravo. Please get that arranged as soon as you can. I'll wait for you to be ready and then we can head out with Isis."

Mrs Hughes stepped forward, the light from the fire casting ominous shadows over her face. "I'll get Thomas and send someone out if you could let me know where they are, Mr Bates."

"They are combing the Eastern outfield passed the second gate."

"Leave it with me. I'll get it sorted." Mrs Hughes bowed her head slightly and exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Bates turned his attention to his wife who turned to look at him, her eyes searching his as he gazed at her. They were very good at communicating without words considering the job they did and some of the people they associated with downstairs, and Bates could feel the worry emanating her like rays from the sun. As they looked at each other he gave his best comforting glance before smiling at her.

Robert gave the dog a stroke on the head and crouched down to look her in the eyes. "Isis, my dear companion. I need you now, more than ever, to help me in this trying time. I know you will do your best, as you have always done. She is one of us, girl, our family so we must do what we can to get her home."

The dog just wagged her tail and pressed her nose into his hand.

"Come on then, girl lets get ourselves ready." Robert stood and moved to his wife's side, putting his hand on her shoulder. "My dear, I'd like to borrow you for just one second from this warm place before I go."

Robert eyed Bates, letting him know he could spend a few minutes with his wife before their departure. It should be he who stayed, but Carson was not about to put things in their rightful order and to Robert it didn't really matter at that moment.

When they had left the room, Bates walked over to Anna who placed her hand on his arm. "Are you ok," she said quietly, searching his eyes for answers. "You're in pain aren't you?"

"It's fine. It's just the uneven ground. I've been through worse and must do as I can." As he put his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a quick kiss. "My love, how are you?"

Anna looked away temporarily and grabbed hold of her handkerchief in her pocket, fiddling with it as she pushed her worry downwards. "I'm ok," she lied.

"Anna, you can't lie to me and you know that. I said, are you ok?" Bates pressed.

As she looked up at him he could see her bottom lip quiver so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. When she nestled her head into him he felt her stern resolve evaporate so he squeezed her tighter. "We will find her."

"I feel as if this is somewhat my fault," she exclaimed quietly. "I KNEW something wasn't right, she had been so off and unfamiliar, especially today. I don't know why I didn't go and see her sooner or check on her more frequently." As she looked up at him he could see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"My dear," he said in his most encouraging tone. "You are not her keeper. If Lady Mary wants to do something, she will do it. If you had chained the door closed so she couldn't leave, she would have managed to find a way out."

"I hope with all my heart that she is ok," Anna whimpered, her arms tightening around his torso taking comfort in his large sturdy frame and warm chest.

"As do I. We will find her, I promise. Do I ever break my promises?" Bates said cheerfully.

Anna smiled before lifting her head and giving him a quick kiss. Oh, how she loved her husband.

* * *

As a butler, Carson was used to the hustle and bustle of a household. Over the years he had learnt all the different nuances the house had to offer, how his family expected him to work and the standard in which to keep himself and the people around him. As he stood there, the silence from Lady Mary overpowering the storm around him he felt an unfamiliar rise in panic because this is not something he was prepared for really, but he would do what he could. Moving to her side he checked for any obvious signs of injury as he looked at her from head to toe.

"Lady Mary," he said quietly as he put his hand on her shoulder.

The next thing he checked was whether she was breathing, and as he concentrated he could make out small shallow breaths that sent a huge wave of relief through him. Mumbling to himself he then removed his jacket and placed it over her body, the thin dress she wore not providing much respite from the weather. The cold instantly hijacked whatever warmth the jacket had provided for him, but it didn't phase him because his attention was wholly on the young woman lying helplessly in front of him.

The lightning cracked directly above them and he raised his eyes to the sky before moving closer to her protectively. Mrs Hughes would know what to do in this situation, he knew, as she was a quick-minded spirited woman who had experienced a lot and had an answer for everything. Mr Carson sat himself down properly, his knees screaming at him for a break in the position he was in. Lady Mary lay directly in front of him as he used as much of his body to shield her from any wayward wind gusts that the tree hadn't already dampened and he felt the violent shivers begin.

"Oh dear oh dear," he sighed contemplating what to do. As she was, he could try lift and carry her and hope that at some point his Lordship would be on his way back with help, but knew he would struggle massively to do that. There was also the option that he could go off on his own to get help and return with others, but that would risk leaving her exposed and alone for a longer period of time. Then, the final option would be to say until his Lordship returned. So he sat for just a few minutes laying out the logical pros and cons in his mind whilst trying to keep the emotional side detached. There she lay, exposed and completely vulnerable and he knew that he couldn't leave her so he either had to carry her or he had to stay.

"Right," he declared, getting up to his feet. "I can not leave you here, so I must do my best to get you back."

It took him a few moments to evaluate the best way to pick her up so as to maintain her dignity and to make it easy for him to move her so he bent down and scooped her up into his arms so that her shoulders sat in his left arm and her knees hooked over his right. The jacket he had lain on her fell down so he tucked it underneath awkwardly. It took Carson by surprise when he felt how light she was, the months of grief and mourning having taken its toll on her small frame. Lady Mary had been slender her whole life, but she wore it well and her naturally pointed face was beautiful. When he had been keeping an eye on her over the most recent months, her mind and body so completely full of grief and sadness, he had noticed how her cheeks had sunk and the dark rims under her eyes had gotten darker and darker.

Casting his eyes to the tree once more he noticed something reflect back at him as the lightning flashed above. As he strained his eyes he could make out one of the silver bladed letter openers that he kept in the entrance hall lying behind where Lady Mary had been. A sickening feeling rose into the pit of his stomach and he looked at her peaceful face in his arms. When the storm died down he was going to have to get that retrieved. Not wanting to dwell on it too long through fear of it making him jump to conclusions he straightened himself up.

"Right we are," he said determinedly as he began taking his first few steps.

**Thank you for taking the time to read the newest chapter. I had a lot more incorporated into this one but felt I had to break it in the middle whilst I get the rest right. It would have ended up being an 8k chapter and I prefer smaller snippets because there are so many parts. Obviously it looks like all will be well, but this is not the end and there is a bit of a twist in the future, I just need to get it written out so that it feels right :) As always, let me know what you think and what you didn't! I appreciate any feedback. **


	7. Chapter 7

Mrs Hughes sat at the servant's dining table with a half-drunk cup of tea staring up at her as it transitioned into the tepid temperature that made it no longer enjoyable to drink. Downstairs was eerily quiet with just the sound of Mrs Patmore muttering to herself in the kitchen, the odd clank of a pan or pot as she moved things around and the occasional boom of thunder. Not too long before Mrs Hughes had sent Daisy to rest knowing that things, regardless of situations, still needed doing when the sun finally rose. Mrs Patmore, being as stubborn as she was, refused to go to bed until everything had settled down. It was right, though, as who knew what would need to be made as the coming hours came forward. There would be some hungry and cold men returning that would need feeding and plying with tea to warm them up.

Frustrated and exhausted, Mrs Hughes pushed the cup away and shook her head, her eyes rising to check the time for what seemed like the hundredth time. There was a deep sick feeling at the pit of her stomach that would not budge, keeping busy wouldn't help and doing nothing was even worse but she had no energy so she sat in her thoughts. The chill in the downstairs area had started to make her nose run so she lifted her handkerchief to her nose and wiped.

"Are you alright?" Mrs Patmore queried as she came in with a fresh pot of freshly brewed tea watching as the other woman wiped at her face.

"Quite," Mrs Hughes said quietly before returning a forced smile that disappeared so quickly that if you blinked you would miss it. Mrs Patmore was a stubborn woman with a fiery temper, but inside and away from all that, she was soft and had the best intentions in the things she did. Over the years they had both been there for each other in trying times, both of them having been in service for most of their lives so understood each other and the situations they faced. Mrs Hughes admired the fact that Mrs Patmore never held her tongue and said what she was thinking as it made things much easier for her to deal with. There were rarely any underlying factors in her words, and it meant that their conversations behind closed doors when they had the time, were quick and meaningful.

"Now we both know that's a lie," Mrs Patmore said sternly as she swiped away the half-drunk cup of tea, annoyed a little at the waste of the precious nectar she had made Mrs Hughes a short while before. One of the things she loved about being from Yorkshire was the tea, it was a brew like no other and could be the catalyst to solving a lot of life's issues. Cold? Have some tea. Upset? Have some tea. Happy? Drink some tea. Leaving tea normally meant the drinker required a little chat.

Mrs Hughes raised her eyes to Mrs Patmore's and lifted her eyebrows as she looked into the hawk eyes of the redheaded cook who look as exhausted as she felt. "Yes, I suppose it is," she grumbled, wrapping her arms around herself as she glanced at the clock once more.

Mrs Patmore took a seat next to Mrs Hughes and poured her another cup of tea. "Come on. Out with it."

"I'm just worried," Mrs Hughes said quietly as if the words she spoke were foreign out of her mouth. "You know, about all of this."

"About all of this?" Mrs Patmore said sarcastically. "Yes, about ALL of this and nothing in particular!" The tea that she placed in front of Mrs Hughes sent small waves of steam into the air.

Mrs Hughes eyes followed the light white trails that emanated from the cup and sighed sadly. Mrs Patmore was never light with her tongue, although it was normally with the young girls in her kitchen and not her. "You know what I'm worried about, so stop digging," she hissed, wrapping her hands around the cup.

"I wouldn't 'av to dig if you would have just bloody come out with it in the first place, would I?" Mrs Patmore dropped some sugar into the tea and pulled up a chair to the side. "It's better to 'av you speak it rather than I assume and make meself look a fool."

"I'm sorry," Mrs Hughes mumbled before stirring the tea haphazardly. "I am. I'm just tired and the more the minutes go the more I worry about him. The weather outside is frightful and he's not a young man anymore. The cold can creep into your body and lungs and we know what that can do."

"Yes. Yes, I know. It's Lady Mary though and you know she will always own a piece of his heart." Mrs Patmore took a sip of her tea before putting it down and placing her hand atop of her friends. "Mr Carson is a braver man than many, wiser than many and more stubborn than almost any man I know."

"I know, he's blind to her and I understand that, I do, but it frustrates me so." Mrs Hughes could feel the warmth from the tea heat the fingertips of the remaining hand which gripped the cup and she shook her head. "I really hope he's ok. Everyone else is out with someone, but now he's on his own since Thomas came back and his Lordship. What if he's fallen? What if he's lost?"

"I know it frustrates you. Try not to worry, it'll do you no good in the end." Mrs Patmore squeezed Mrs Hughes hand before taking another sip of her tea.

The pair of them sat in silence for a few moments before Mrs Patmore shuffled nervously on her chair and Mrs Hughes could tell she was going to say something. "What is it?"

"Are you ever going to…you know, tell 'im?"

"Tell him what?" Mrs Hughes said with a stern voice, her eyes glaring at Mrs Patmore because she knew what she meant but refused to acknowledge it.

"Oh come off it. That man cares for you without ever 'aving to say it, and I can see it in your face and whole bloody body that you care for him too. The pair of ya, you're so blind and dedicated to your work that you can't even bloody admit it." Mrs Patmore shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," Mrs Hughes grumbled, pulling her chair in closer to the table.

"I'd like you to hear me out if you will?" Mrs Patmore said calmly, seeking out the other woman's eyes.

Mrs Hughes nodded slightly before sipping her tea.

"People like us, Mrs Hughes, very rarely make it outside of service. We are creatures of habit and it suits us down to our core. We work all of our lives making other people 'appy and rarely give ourselves a moment to let _ourselves_ be 'appy. It's rare, especially at our age," she said sadly. "To find someone who cares for us and wants us to be a part of their lives. I watch you both flappin' around each other all day, the little gestures you give each other speak louder than a screeching baby! I want you to be 'appy, Mrs Hughes, I do. Never a touch of a man, me, in all my years on this Earth and we have emotional and physical…needs after all. Just think about it, is all I say. It doesn't have to be now, but you'd be so stupid to let it go."

Mrs Hughes smirked and shook her head. "You don't half have a way with words, don't you?"

"I wouldn't say a way with words, Mrs Hughes. I'm better suited to the world of flour 'n eggs if I'm honest, but if what I say helps you see sense then yes, I'd have a good way with words." Mrs Patmore smirked before taking another sip of tea. "Now, drink that bloody brew before it goes cold. I'll not have you waste another drop!"

* * *

Lady Mary opened her eyes to feel herself bobbing clumsily up and down, the trees looking down on her as she faced awkwardly up at the sky. To her left, she could hear grunting and laboured breathing that followed by a guttural _bloody hell_. "Carson?" she whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she felt some rainwater fall into her mouth.

Carson froze at the sound of his name, the pain in his back screaming as he adjusted his posture so he could stop comfortably. "Lady Mary," he exclaimed happily, the sight of her open eyes sending waves of relief through him.

In the confusion of those first few moments of being conscious, she had been more aware of her surroundings than anything else, and then she felt that familiar raw panic set in because she knew that Carson was trying to take her home. "Put me down," she whispered.

Carson couldn't hear what she had said and instead tried to offer her words of encouragement. "It'll be ok, Lady Mary. I'll get you home so we can get you well again."

The panic brought with it fast and shallow breaths that made her flail out, sending Carson into a wobble as he tried to keep his balance. "Please, put me down," she cried, kicking out her leg.

They both toppled to the floor into a messy heap, Carson's face aghast with horror at the fact that he had, in his eyes, dropped them both. Mary untangled herself and rolled onto her back before taking a deep breath, the energy in her body meaning she felt like she could barely move. To her left, she could hear Carson groaning and muttering to himself as he tried to get himself right, the fall had knocked some of the air from his lungs as he had tried to save them both. The blissful calm she had felt when she had her own space, where she had nothing but her thoughts and decisions had, as it felt at that moment, been zapped. Nothing within Carson's resolve, demeanour, conscience and loyalty to the family would let her do what she needed. Inside she also knew that his fondness for her would also never allow it, the years he had spent being so true to her having solidified a deeply rooted love. Was she still mad at him for their last conversation in which she had told him he had crossed a line? Yes. Did she admire him for the fact he had been out searching for her in this weather? Yes. Did she know what she was going to do now that she had been found? Not at all, but she knew where she wanted to be and so she forced herself to sit up.

"Lady Mary, please," Carson begged, rubbing his arms as he tried to soothe himself. "We must get you out of this weather."

Mary ignored him like she had been doing for weeks and tried to get herself to her feet, pushing away the fear and rising panic in her chest. At first, she managed to get to her knees, her vision swimming in front of her as she tried to make herself straight. Then, she put both of her hands on the floor so she could allow herself to be level, her eyes blinking furiously as she tried to focus on a tree straight ahead of her. The wind pushed into her from the side and she closed her eyes, her body felt like she was on a boat that was out at sea in a storm and she exhaled hard, clenching her eyes together.

Carson could see she was struggling and slowly got to his feet, his arms and legs find it hard to co-ordinate as they normally would. "My Lady," he said, putting his hand onto her shoulder as she continued to sit on her knees with her eyes closed. "Please."

Mary moved her shoulder away from him and pushed herself up to her feet, the sheer defiance and determination she felt at getting back to that peaceful state forcing her to move on. "I can't," she murmured, her brain and body screaming to get back to the cocoon of peace she had been so content with.

Carson stood with a concerned and puzzled expression on his face as he watched her trudge back the way they came. Momentarily he was bewildered by her behaviour, not understanding her motive, but then this whole thing was very out of character and he knew it was driven by deep-set grief that had so obviously poisoned her sense of self-preservation and normal thinking. The melancholia was unencumbered, aggressive and flowed through her like a disease and although Carson had never experienced it, or understood it, for he had never been in the same situation, it must be suffocating. Not knowing what to do as she ambled away into the distance again, he shook his head and followed suit, hoping to make a plea to any sort of rationale that she may have in there.

* * *

Thomas sat on his bed, the clothes he had worn previously were drying on the end and his tea, which he had placed by the side of his bed was calling out to be enjoyed. The warmth had been sat steadily inside, dispelling away the cold so that he was finally warmed through. As far as he was concerned he had done his part and had gone out to help and then relayed the message to the house and had called for help.

"I don't envy all of them out in this weather," he muttered to himself as he picked up the tea from the table and took a sip. "Lovely," he grinned, pulling his newspaper from the stand and opening it to begin his read.

The door to his room opened sharply and Bates walked in with a smirk on his lips. "Thomas," he grinned, not because of the situation but because he knew that the look on the younger man's face was going to be a picture when the news was given. Mrs Hughes had been pulled away to sort something out for her Ladyship so Bates had volunteered to let the younger man know of what was required of him.

"Mr Bates?" Thomas replied questioningly, a quizzical expression on his face as he folded his paper.

"His Lordship has requested you come to assist in the search again. We need as many men on the ground as possible."

Thomas' face scrunched up as he realised that he was going to have to go outside and leave the comfort and warmth of his room. "What? But I've already been out and have successfully done what was asked of me."

Bates just continued to grin at him, deep satisfaction washing over him at the fact that his plan had come together and his Lordship had agreed that he must get back outside. It was only fair, considering everyone else that was able-bodied had been outside and they all continued to do what they could. The snivelling young man before him was only ever out for himself and it was his just dessert that he needed to be pulled out of the comfort of his warm room. "Are you questioning his Lordship's request?"

Thomas narrowed his eyes and glared at the man standing before him, now realising what the grin was that he had plastered all over his normally stoic face. "No, Mr Bates, not at all. I just thought that it best if I get some rest to take the next shift."

"There is no next shift," Bates said abruptly. "There is no rotation. We all must work and do as we can to ensure that Lady Mary is found safe and sound." Bates pulled the door as wide open as it would go and stood to the side with his arm out to show that Thomas needed to move. "Shall we?"

Thomas stood to his feet and let out an almighty huff as he placed the paper down on the table. "If that is his Lordship's wish." There was a jumper in his drawers that he pulled over his shirt. Then he pulled a day jacket out and placed that over the jumper, and the coat that he had worn earlier that was wet then went over the coat. Layers were the key he kept telling himself as he scoped he room out for anything else that he could put on.

"Thomas?" Bates queried.

Thomas looked over at the warm tea whose steam blooms rose up into the air around him and sadly shook his head, longing to be sat on his bed drinking it. Let's hope they find her soon so he can get out of the rain as quickly as possible.

* * *

**I sat going over the words I had written so far and knew I had to break before the next sections so made this a chapter. So here we have something that doesn't end in a dramatic way like most of the others, but who doesn't like to see Thomas squirm? I have a busy week ahead in work so I'll do my best to get another chapter out by the end of the weekend. It all starts pulling together tightly in the next few chapters after this :) Thank you again for giving me your feedback and encouragement, it does make writing that bit more gratifying! All feedback is appreciated and welcomed!**


	8. Chapter 8

Tom stood in the doorway of the nursery and watched his little girl sleep, her young innocent mind ignorant to the dire situation they seemed to be facing. The curves of her cheeks, still plump with infancy were soft and carefree. The storm hadn't even stirred her and this made him smile as he stood in awe of her, admiring her, loving her and also breaking his heart because she looked so much like her mother. How beautiful his little girl was. There was not a day that went by where he didn't miss Sybil and want to have her in his arms once more.

Mary's pain had echoed within him and he knew exactly what his Sister-in-law was feeling. Sybil, his darling wife, was the fire in his heart and the flame behind him. No matter what, she had been supportive and comforting, warm, courageous and just downright amazing. The girl that lay before him would grow up to know everything about her mother. When they had gone away to live in Ireland, Lady Sybil had taken with her several diaries from the years before and after they had met. It had been her wish to share those with her daughter, to tell her about her life, her childhood and her family from her own younger perspective. Tom would follow through with that and they would read them together when the time was right now that they had been sent over to him.

The atmosphere in the house since Matthew had passed had been suffocating and he had spent a lot of time feeling like a go-between, trying to get Mary re-involved in the house, giving her something to take her mind off of it but also trying to work with Robert to keep things moving. Nobody had really been aware that it had knocked him, slightly; the emotional distress he could see in Mary mirrored how much he had suffered with the death of his beautiful darling wife. It had been difficult for him to watch her, feel the pain, watch as she deteriorated deeper into despair and see the grief pulling at her from every angle; but he had tried to be there. On a few occasions he had had to step out, the pain that he had managed to squash for some time had reared its ugly head. There were times he had cried, times he had had to go out in the car to keep his head clear and times where he just wanted to pull Mary into a hug so she could cry. It was not his place and nor was it proper, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought it. When he went through the harrowing and awful time when Sybil had passed he had spent a lot of time alone, and all he had wanted was someone to squeeze him and tell him it was going to be ok. Why was it so difficult in an English aristocratic household to show what one truly feels? It wasn't like that back home and he missed the increased emotional openness.

As the storm continued to rage he moved forward and poked the fire to ignite some more warmth into the room, and placed a small log onto the top so it would catch. Hoping that the children would continue to sleep through the night until, hopefully, the morning came and they had found Mary and she was back inside. Children could be sensitive to stress, but he knew Nanny would keep them occupied as best she could if this wasn't the case. Knowing that he had to help he moved forward and leant down to kiss his daughter on the cheek and pulled the blankets closer around her small little frame. George, who was also snoozing deeply, was also oblivious, but the poor child, like Sybbie, would never know his other parent. It was a sorry state but hoped that they would both be there for each other if it were ever required. "Sleep peacefully, my dear princess and prince. Just know you are both loved very much," he whispered, running his hand over the sleeping boys head. A small tear crept lightly down his cheek, wishing his wife were there to help and guide him like she always did. Oh, how he missed her.

* * *

Carson watched as Lady Mary crouched back down into the trunk of the tree, her gaze absent again as she curled herself up against the wood on the inside. The coat that he had placed on her before lay in his hand and he lifted it and placed it around her shoulders as he sat by her side. During the short walk, as he hadn't actually got very far when he was carrying her, he had watched her curiously and had tried to talk to her and get her to turn around but she never said a word.

What he didn't understand above all was the reason as to why she wanted to keep coming back to this place. What was it that drew her there? Why this place? Nothing sprang to mind when he thought of it, but then he was not present for every moment of her life so there was something there that clung to her heart that he didn't know.

Mary reached out gently to the patch that she had been touching before, the familiarity from that one spot sending a small wave of calm over her, but it was not enough. Carson was present to the left of her and she could feel the claustrophobic panic sitting in her chest. Inside the pain was screaming because she wanted to be alone, she wanted to feel the calm that she hadn't experienced in months as she had just a short while ago. The calmness that came with the decision that she knew was right; that she knew was going to make everything ok again. "Carson," she barked, turning to look at him, her eyes fixed solidly on his. "I want you to leave me. Go back to the house."

Carson sat still in his tracks completely taken aback by her words. "My Lady. I can not leave you like this, in this weather, in this _state_," he emphasised the last word as he shook his head. "No My Lady, absolutely not."

"I'm ordering you to," she said defiantly, feeling the panic move closer and closer to the top of her being, threatening to force itself free. "Now. Go."

Carson sat quietly for a moment to look into her eyes that were wide with fear. What was she scared of? "What's wrong, Lady Mary?" A stupid question, he knew, but he needed to say something to her to try and get something in return.

"Wrong?" she almost laughed at him. "I am not playing this game, Carson. I want you to go back up to the house."

Carson somehow knew that he was fighting a losing battle, he could see it in her eyes that she was so completely lost in herself and so full of pain. The strong woman he knew was in there was absorbed and suffocated by the loss of Matthew. It was so very obvious that he wasn't going to go anywhere so he had to try something, anything. "I remember a story you once told me about this place, my Lady," he said coolly, his eyes rising back to hers as she glared defiantly at him.

"You were 7 or 8 years old and you ran into my pantry, your hair all tangled, a brilliant smile planted so widely on your face. I was sat at my desk doing some work and I remember how you ran to my side and how you kept saying my name. I stopped what I was doing and turned my chair to look at you, to hear you out and let you have your say. I've always listened to you, Lady Mary. I've always been there when you have needed it and there is nothing that you could say that would make me upset with you, angry with you or make me not…care about you." It felt impertinent, somewhat, to be speaking so openly with her but it was not exactly a normal day. Carson looked at her but her gaze had not faltered so he carried on.

"It was a warm spring day and the governess had finally, after a long winter, let you go out to play. You had been so excited that day to be able to go out, your patience having worn thin at the fact you hadn't been out for so long. However, when you ran into my pantry that afternoon, you were so happy and that impatience had vanished. You said to me, _Mr Carson, I have done a wonderful wonderful thing_. I could see the happiness on your face and how proud you were. Then you sat on my lap and said to me, _Mr Carson do not tell Papa or Mama what we did when we ran away from the governess or I shall be hung out to dr_y. I asked you what you had done. There you sat so completely pleased with yourself and said so boldly- _I climbed the biggest tree on the estate. I climbed so much higher than Edith and Sybil, but that's because little Sybil only has little legs. I got much higher than Edith though. I climbed so high into the sky that I nearly_-"

"Touched the clouds," she whispered, her expression never faltering as she recollected on that precise memory Carson was talking about.

Carson paused and reached out to take her hand. "Do you remember what I said to you, Lady Mary?"

Mary ran her fingers over the bark again, her eyes looked out into the distance as she started thinking about her childhood. Then the memories moved to the day she met Matthew, to Christmas, to the wedding, to the birth and the moment it was all ripped away from her. "Please don't make me remember. I can't bear to think about the past. It's too hard to think, too hard to feel. I can't." The panic reached its peak, her hand clutching at her chest as she tried to calm it, her breathing increasing to a rate that you would think she had been running.

Carson squeezed her hand and put his other arm around her, trying to calm her as she visibly began to lose control. "I said to you, My Lady, that you can do whatever you want to in your life if you put your mind to it. If you want to reach the clouds and climb to the highest branch of the tree, travel to new places, see the world or climb a mountain you will do it. You are strong, Lady Mary, so very _strong_. I meant it then and I mean it ever so much more now. Do not let this absorb you. You can do this."

Mary lowered her head and put it into her hand, her vision swimming in front of her as she felt her breathing increase again. "I can't," she whimpered as she felt all of her pent up emotions begin to rise and spill from her core, the panic at the forefront as the leader of her emotional armageddon. Inside she still tried with all of her might to squash it, every ounce of her not wanting to feel what was rising inside. It felt like burning lava mixed with deep cold ice that travelled up through her chest. "I am very much at the bottom and I see no way out," she cried, the words that she spoke ignited it all until it had nowhere to go but outwards. The tears cascaded, her lips trembled, the sobs were guttural and they rose from the furthest part within her. It started, and inside she could not stop it and so she let the gates open not knowing what else to do.

Carson could feel her whole body shake against him as the sobs rattled her small frame. Instinctively he wrapped his arm as far around her as he could, bringing her body into his. The hand that had been holding hers then came around the front so he embraced her with the length of his arms. Then her spare hand came up to his lapel and clutched it with an almighty grip before she turned her face straight into his chest. As he tried his best to soothe her he gazed up at the sky, a few stray raindrops landing on his face that helped mask his own tears as he felt her break against him. At that moment, in that space, he knew that there was nothing that he could say so he held her and allowed her to do what she needed as his own heart broke for her.

* * *

**All this writing is making me want to do a Downton rewatch to see what else I can come up with! Two Chapters in two days! I hope you enjoy the newest instalment. I did struggle writing this chapter and the one previous as I wasn't sure if it was shaping into what I had initially laid out in my head. I rewrote it a few times, but it finally landed and it all made sense in my head again. Thanks for taking the time to read this, I appreciate it. Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

Robert stood and welcomed in the small army of men from the village who had just arrived, most of them still looking half asleep as they rallied in the front hall already wet from the torrential downpours outside. There were many expectant eyes around him, all looking to him for orders and direction and it warmed him that there were so many people willing to help. Behind him, he could feel the warm presence from Cora, who had her hand placed gently on his lower arm as a sign of support. Although their marriage had been one of convenience in the beginning, and over the years they had their differences, he knew deep down that she was the woman for him and was so appreciative of her presence. The men rallied into a small group and he gazed admirably upon them.

"Firstly, I am very thankful for your help on this dark and miserable night. I very much appreciate the fact that you have all so kindly agreed to help search, even though it's so early in the morning. My daughter, Lady Mary, is missing. We fear that she is somewhere in the grounds and we think she has been out there for many many hours so it is imperative," he pleaded tiredly. "So very imperative that we find her as soon as we can. Now, if you see Mr Bates here he will tell you where you are to search. I thank you again."

As soon as he finished talking he reached behind him to squeeze his wife's hand, pulling her towards him so he could wrap his arm around her. "I do love you," he whispered before pulling her hand to his mouth and giving it a gentle kiss. "Thank you," he said appreciatively, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

Cora tilted her head questioningly. "Whatever for?"

Robert smiled. "For just being you," he whispered. "I will find her, my love," he said defiantly, giving her a quick smile before he moved out to shake hands with one of the villagers who walked past him.

Bates had grouped the men so there were at least three in each team and gave them as much instruction as he could about the area they were to begin their search, taking care to explain the areas that had already been covered. Once they were confident with what it was they were to do he pointed them in the direction of Anna who would then lead them to the door before sending them on their way. Bates knew that his wife was desperate to help in some way, so this little part would keep her thirst quenched for a short while before he too would head back out into the night.

Tom, who had just left the nursery, walked down the stairs with a sullen expression on his face, his mind still obviously going over the thoughts of his wife, daughter, nephew and sister-in-law. Robert caught him out of the corner of his eye and walked over to him. "Tom?" he queried, seeing the unhappy look on the younger mans face. "My dear man, are you ok?"

Tom forced a smile and nodded his head. "Yes. Yes, I'm just tired," he lied, averting his gaze to the men around them. "It's been a long night."

Robert nodded his head agreeably. "Very much so," he grumbled, his own weary body feeling the effects heavily. "We have just received this group of volunteers who are on their way out. I'd appreciate, though, if you could assist us in the woods?"

"Of course. Although maybe," Tom paused letting his mind work through the whole scenario in his head. "We've sent out the men from the village but we are all collectively, as people who are familiar with the house and surroundings, are all going together? I think perhaps we should send at least one member of the household whether upstairs or downstairs in each group."

Robert smiled gently and put his hand on Tom's shoulder. "It's ok. Alfred returned not too long ago and we have a hall boy and some of the other servants who have returned to go out with each team. The woods is a much more difficult hill to climb so I would rather those, who are familiar with it at least to a point, to stick together. I know each of you, I know you all care very much for Mary and I have a feeling in my bones that this is the right way to go but I need all the other options covered too."

Tom followed the logic and nodded. "I'll go wherever you send me."

Robert eyed him curiously before squeezing Tom's shoulder. "I know that this must be hard on you too. I know the past few months must have dislodged some of the hurt and sadness in you at the memory of our dearest Sybil. I must admit," he said quietly. "She has been on my mind too. We are family, Tom, and we must stick together because who do we have but each other?"

Tom looked at Robert in awe temporarily before nodding his head; thankful for the words he had spoken. Not too far behind he caught the eye of Mrs Hughes who smiled at him and he knew she was happy to hear those words too. "Thank you," Tom said, leaning to shake Robert's hand.

"Now, let's regroup and get ready to go out."

* * *

Carson had felt Lady Mary go quiet against him a while before, but he wanted to leave her to settle a few moments longer. The way she had almost exploded into him, her whole body shaking with sadness- and cold- had upset him to his core. The cold wind had taken advantage of the tears that fell down his face and they made his face sore as the temperature pulled them down to the cold temperature of the air around them. Carson knew he was a generally stoic man who set the precedent within the house to maintain standards and to uphold the ways his predecessors followed for many years before them. However, the sadness he had felt when she let it all out had been unbearable. Inside, he was glad somewhat that there had been nobody there to witness the well-mortared walls he had around his emotional psyche crumble. There he had sat as she broke in half, his tears falling and all he had wanted was to hug her tight and absorb it all away from her.

"My Lady," Carson said softly, rubbing her arm.

The rain was hitting the floor and making a constant thumping as it bombarded the woods around them. The thunder and lightning had reached the penultimate point where it must have been directly above them, as the lightning and thunder almost went hand in hand with minimal delay between the two. Carson felt Mary adjust beneath him so that just her forehead lay against him and he leant his head down to try to make some eye contact, his expression soft as he watched her exhale deeply. At first, he thought she had said something, his ears straining to hear anything other than the overpowering noise of the world around them, but it was just the high pitched whistle from a tight gap within the tree bark around them where the wind had forced its way in.

Mary pulled herself so she was sitting upright and she turned to look at the tree bark behind her, her finger impulsively rising to the same patch she had been touching before. The area made her hurt, made her sad, made her feel calm and warm and it made her long to feel the touch of her husband once more. When she turned back to Carson she could see his left eyebrow raised and she knew that he didn't understand what it was that this place was to her. It was not something she could put into words at that moment so she just turned her face instead to the sky and took a deep breath, closing her eyes to try and block everything out. The emotional outburst she had just overcome had left her feeling drained, even more so than she thought possible after being out for so long in this weather. It didn't matter though, because her mind had not been changed. What she had to do now was send Carson back to the house so she could hide away.

The thunder boomed once more above them and Carson waited patiently for it to stop. "Lady Mary, his Lord and Ladyship are beside themselves. Whatever it is you're going through we will all battle together. The whole house both upstairs and downstairs is with you. We fight with you. Whatever you need. Now," he paused to give her a reassuring smile. "We are very much in danger from this cold. You might not be able to feel it but you've been out too long and we need to get you home or you could get gravely ill and-"

"Die?" she scoffed under her breath. It was hard to try and explain to someone how it felt to be in the place she found herself both emotionally and physically. How great it would be to be able to impose her current state of mind onto Carson so he could feel and understand what it was that she was feeling, had been feeling and why she felt that she needed to do what she wanted at this precise point in time. Part of her had been thinking as she tried to keep herself upright, her sight almost beginning to twist like it was when one was dizzy, that she probably wouldn't have emotionally exploded if Carson hadn't been there. Instead, she would have stayed in that state of calm, not that she wanted to let Carson know that.

"Exactly. I don't want you to feel that I'm fighting you, because I see that look behind your eyes, Lady Mary, that look that you get when you have an idea set solid in your mind. We must go back." Carson mused for a moment as he tried to gauge and anticipate her next move. What he would like, at this moment, is to transport them both away somewhere warm where she could take as much time as she wanted to heal, to explain to him how she felt and move forward with her life. Time, as he very much knew as well as felt, was of the essence. The only saving graces were that they had each other, and to some extent, they were able to provide a small amount of heat with each other on top of the protection from the tree itself. The resolve of her beaten emotional wall still stood firmly, and so he began mulling over the final and most emotive topic of conversation he had yet to try. Matthew. Deep down Carson knew that Matthew was the biggest bargaining chip. That was his next move.

"I don't care," Mary said firmly, folding her arms across herself as a subtle act of defiance. Then she waited, expecting some sort of dispute from her old stubborn protector. When she realised he wasn't going to say anything, the silence from him unusually loud, she looked up at his face and watched as he sadly shook his head. The expression on his face she could only gauge as mirroring dismay. "What is it?"

Carson at first let his head stop shaking before putting his hands together in his lap, allowing his exterior to mirror the sadness he truly felt in his body. It made him sad and guilty to know that he was going to have to resort to this final step, having implored her with the use of her mother and father and even tried with her own mortality. A part of him thought about using George, but he knew that because of the grief and no doubt the sadness of being a one-parent family, she had probably already thought about that herself. Throughout the past few months, he had heard her speak, or other people speaking about her lack of maternal and emotional connection to the poor child. Carson never blamed her for that, because grief could compress and minimise even the natural love for a child, especially in a home where someone else primarily cared for them. Matthew grounded Lady Mary in a way Carson had never experienced before, and he hoped, he really did, that bringing it back to him would help.

"My Lady," Carson sighed, his last idea weighing heavy on his heart and mind, knowing he was again going to step over his line of duty and speak out of turn. "Mr Crawley," he paused before swallowing deeply. "Mr Crawley, your husband, the man who loved you like no other, would never sit here and allow you to do what you are so desperately trying to achieve. I saw the letter opener, I understand now what it is you want. I will not allow this to happen, My Lady. Not only that but your husband, the man who made you whole, made your world complete, your heart sing and your life so much brighter would be devastated. You, his darling wife, who he loved with every ounce of his being, thinking about and acting on the voice of grief. Mr Matthew Crawley wo-"

"STOP!" Mary yelled. "Stop, please don't speak his name any more."

Carson ignored her and coughed to clear his throat and watched as she struggled to her feet before him. It took him a moment, but he managed to follow suit and move to stand ahead of her. "Do you think that he would want this for you? I know you are hurting, I can see it, hear it and feel it coming out of you, My Lady. Your son cannot live his life without his mother and his father. The family up there will love him as they love you, but we both know that the love will never be the one of a mother or father. Please, Lady Mary. I implore you."

Mary had put her hands over her face for a moment, the wind fingering her hair like ghouls and wind pushing her body like invisible soldiers. When she brought her fingers down, her face was filled with a rage that Carson had never witnessed before. An instant rage had ignited within her like a fiery bubble. Matthew's name had hit her right in the heart like a fire tipped arrow as the words resounded so painfully that they could only manifest into a rage; pure, malevolent and bitter.

"How DARE you, Carson. How dare you speak of him to me." When she paused her lips pursed so tight they lightened in colour as the blood was pushed elsewhere. "You stand before me, so insolent and disrespectful bringing up my poor husband's name in such a manner. I thought so much better of you. How dare you tell me about what he would think about me acting the way I am, when you, a single man with no emotional ties, have never felt what I am going through or what he would think. I thought your behaviour before was very much out of line, but this," she paused to catch her breath. "This is unforgivable. You think you are right and you think you know me but let me remind you that you are a servant of my father and the house. I have every right, as I stand here before you, to dismiss you from your post. I thought you of all people, would respect me enough to allow me to make my own decisions," she glared defiantly at him and stared pointedly into his eyes. "You hurt and disappoint me so deeply to my core."

Mary could feel a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach as her brain began the motions of actually thinking about Carson's words. Matthew had lifted her from herself and made her a whole person. The little looks he would give her, the deep and penetrating gazes from his ice-blue eyes were warm and comforting. It all came down to the basic fact that she was his Mary, the only Mary and not what everyone else around them saw. It hurt to be far from him and know she would never see or feel him again. There was nobody that had been able to see through her built up façade as he and there would never be anybody who would again. Inside he knew she was soft, warm and although stubborn, he knew it was only with the best intentions. A cold feeling moved out from her stomach and she realised that Carson was right, and although she wouldn't admit it, she very much knew that Matthew would not be pleased with the way she was acting. If the roles were reversed, and she had died, would he allow himself to lose to grief? No, he wouldn't. Would he raise their child as best he could? Of course, he would. The grief would probably eat him up, but she knew that he would never act in the way that she was, and that hurt her. Had she let him down?

Carson fought with himself because her words lashed at him like a bitter and poison tongue, hitting him in the softest part of him, the part where his love for her lay. It was hard because he was doing what he thought was right, to try and reason with her and reach into the rationale that he knew still sat there somewhere. At the same time, though, he wanted for her not to hate him. Their relationship had taken years to build into what it had been, the trust and love building up one piece at a time until it peaked into a magnificent whole. If Carson had ever had a daughter, he knew that he would be proud if she had been like Mary. Children were never meant to be a part of his life because his path bought him to this house and to this family. Was it fate that guided him to this place for her? Did he believe in fate? He wasn't sure but he did know that it was his duty to her to make it right and keep her safe, whatever it took. It didn't stop the sadness from her words fill his body like a cold drink on a warm day, his heart constricting as she glared at him with such contempt that he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. That look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Never, in his time at Downton had he seen such a look come from her delicate face. The small lines around her eyes were filled with a furious rage, branching out like the devil's claws. It hurt him so deeply.

Silence passed between them for a few moments before Carson gave in and sighed heavily, lowering his head as his heart felt like it was going to shatter into a million little pieces. Tears stung at his eyes like little balls of fire and something inside him gave way. "My job, Lady Mary, means nothing to me if I were to leave you here and something happened to you. I only want what is best for you and this family, and that's all I have ever wanted." Carson swallowed heavily and raised his sad eyes to hers. "You are my only family," he said solemnly. "Family protect family. Family means nobody gets left behind. To you, it may seem like I'm just a servant, but to me, you all are my entire world both upstairs and downstairs. It may be impertinent of me to speak out of turn but the truth hurts, My Lady. It's the truth that causes us the most pain. I would walk through fire to ensure that you were safe. If this means that I lose my job," he paused, a thin layer of tears glossed over his eyes as he straightened himself to look straight at her. "Then so be it."

The anger still burnt within her as she took a step back from him, looking at him and seeing a sadness reflect at her as she had never seen from him before. The sadness mirrored the look of a puppy that had been scolded and it shone at her like a beacon of light. "Then so be it," she threw the words back at him with a fervent coldness. The words left her and as soon as the man standing before her had processed them she thought she could see his body bend as if being punched directly in the stomach.

Then, in an instant, it all changed. A blinding hot white flash erupted around them making her recoil as she tried to protect herself from whatever it was. The air filled with a deep and rumbling thunder that mixed in with a cacophony of cracks that emanated from the tree above them. A cold fear coursed through her veins as she realised that it was the sound of breaking wood splintering above them. Instinctively she tried to back herself into the trunk of the tree until she felt something push her backwards with great force, the ground shaking as something landed with a great and almighty thud. The inside of the trunk met her back as she fell into it, her head hitting off of the wood as her body met with the resistance from the bark. As soon as she realised she was within the tree she opened her eyes and tried to see what had happened. Carson no longer stood before her, her mind realising it was he who had pushed her back. When she looked down at the branch that had fallen where she had previously been standing she could make out the pale face of her Carson; her dear friend and protector who now lay unconscious before her.

"Not you, too," she cried, moving to his side. "I can't lose you too."

* * *

**Ooooh, I've been waiting to get this good enough to send out. I've been anxiously waiting for this part to be written, as it's been in my head since the beginning. I told you I'm a bugger for angst! I hope you've enjoyed it. I've had some wonderful feedback and it's really made me happy that I've been able to share this with you. Please, let me know what you think. Thank you so much for following this story and keeping up with it with such gusto! :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi Guys, sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I was having some technical issues and tried everything. Turns out it was just google chrome being mean so I've moved to Firefox just to get this posted. This chapter has turned into something quite long, but it was required. However, I struggled to get this one written down because I was torn between a few things. I knew where I wanted to go to, but it was the stuff in the middle that I needed to find. I hope that you enjoy it. I finally got Edith in here somewhere too. Thanks again for taking the time to enjoy this. I hope you enjoy this installment and please, let me know what you think!**

* * *

Edith sat in the chair in Mary's bedroom, staring out at the darkness and watching the rain fall brutally down the window as the wind forced it almost sideways. When this had all come about, she had taken it upon herself to look in various places in the house because of a niggling thought in her head.

Edith felt sorry for her older sibling in a way because Matthew had been a lovely genial man, and it was a loss to her and the family that he was so tragically taken away. What Mary was doing was almost theatrical, disappearing into the night, leaving nothing to show her reason and making everybody run around after her. They had all spoken about how Mary should have been better by now, but there she was, lost in the grounds somewhere like a dramatic game of hide and seek. Would they make up such a fuss if it were her? She doubted it, and it had left her feeling a little sour.

The restlessness of the house meant that nobody, apart from a few vital workers and the children, could get any sleep. There were normally people all over the place, but it was eerily quiet and had made the hairs on her arms stand on end. The hours she had been awake had played heavily on her eyes, and they ached and almost itched because of their over-exertion. Giving her eyes a quick rub to allow some sort of relief she then moved her gaze to the dresser, where she spotted a small envelope tucked under a pot. Intrigued, she walked over and removed it gently from its resting place and lifted it up. On the envelope, in the same cursive writing that she recognised as her sisters, was Anna's name. When she turned it over she could see that it hadn't been sealed, so she took it upon herself to open it because it intrigued her. Not only that, but she wanted everything to go back to normal so she could finally get some rest.

_'My Dearest Anna, _

_What I write in this letter is for your eyes only because I trust you so very much to keep the contents to yourself. I write this during the darkest days of my life, my thoughts no longer my own and my heart irreparably broken. I know you will think that I should have spoken to you instead of writing this down, but I do not feel as if I can do that without losing myself completely. I wrote this on a cold evening when I could not sleep, and my heart so heavy in my chest I thought it might stop. I felt that this day would come, so if you're reading this then it very much did, and I could see no way out from this grief. _

_I cannot put the loss of my dearest husband into words if I am truthful. I know that I cannot go on anymore as every step, breath and thought makes me hurt and ache to the deepest part of my core. I know you know what loss feels like having lost people in your life. I also know from our talks that Bates is your Matthew and so your level of understanding is greater than many others around me. It's not the same, I know, but I also know that you will not judge me for my actions and behaviours. You are a kind and thoughtful woman who I hold in high regard. You are my maid, but above all else, you are my friend, and I am so very glad that it has transcended into what it is today. I care very much for you and wish you the best. I have thought about the impact on you and my letter to my Papa outlines what will happen to you when I am gone. I do not want my actions to ruin what you have worked so hard to build. _

_I want you to tell my Mama and Papa that this is not their fault. I want you to tell Carson that I am thankful for his presence in my life, even though our last conversation was on bad terms. You are like a sister to me, and Carson a Father and I want you to know that I love you. Both of you have been there for me so loyally over the years that I do not think that I could ever repay it. _

_There is something that I want you to have, and I hope that you will enjoy it as much as I. My favourite silver necklace, which I have worn many times, is in the drawer for you to take whenever you like. When the time is right, and everything has settled after I'm gone and George is finally Christened, I want you to be his Godmother. I know it's not the normal way, the proper way, but I know you are very grounded and loving. My family will do right by him, I know they will, but I also know you will be the finest moral compass he could have. _

_I have hidden some more letters in a place you know as my secret spot. I would appreciate you giving them to their recipients as my last request to you. _

_Do not blame yourself for this, my friend, because there is nothing that would stop me achieving my goal. You have been so kind to me during this difficult time, more so than could be expected, and my appreciation knows no bounds. As always, you go above your duty as both a friend and Maid, and I will be eternally grateful for everything you have ever done for me._

_Until we meet again. _

_Mary."_

Edith swallowed hard, casting her aspersions that it was just an attention-seeking game aside as she realised it was much more dire than she had anticipated. Now, what should she do? She sat there for a moment as she folded the letter and placed it carefully back into the envelope. The letter had not indicated where she would go, so it would not help anyone at that moment. It made her worry that if she showed this to her Mama and Papa that it would make things worse for them. They may find her after all of this and the letter wouldn't help that at this stage. Should she give it to Anna? Should she keep it?

Putting the letter carefully under her arm, as she had no other place to put it, she stood from the chair and made her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs. In the entrance to the Abbey, she could make out a small group of people and made her way to see if Anna was with them.

At the back of the small group was Thomas, who she noted had a very disgruntled look on his face as he gazed out into the cold and dark night, clearly disgusted with what was about to go ahead. Anna, she could see, stood tightly next to Bates with her arm gently resting on his as he talked with an intense concentration to the people around him. When she looked at her Papa she could see how incredibly pale and worn out he looked, the evening having taken it out of him. _Mary, look what you're doing to him_, she thought as she walked to her mother's side. When her eyes met her Mama she could see how exhausted and fraught with worry she was.

"My Darling," Cora said softly, taking Edith's hand in hers. "I was beginning to worry that I needed to check on you. You've been gone for such a long time."

"Yes, Sorry. I had a good look around and then got so lost in my thoughts and tiredness that I lost track of myself and had a bit of a sit-down. I hope you don't mind," she said coyly, keeping the letter tucked deep under her arm.

"Oh my Dear, of course not. We're all so terribly exhausted," Cora chirped tiredly, squeezing Edith's hand as she turned her attention back to Robert.

"My Lady," Mrs Hughes said, holding out a coat for Cora to wear as the wind pushed in a chill from outside. "Let's keep you warm whilst we stand here. We don't want you getting ill." Mrs Hughes stood with the jacket open as Cora put one arm in and then the other. She then turned her attention to the newest addition of the group and smiled. "I'll go get you something warm, Lady Edith."

Edith shook her head and smiled at the older servant. "Please don't worry. I'll be fine. It's only for a short while."

Robert nodded and tucked Mary's scarf into his pocket as he walked over to his wife. "We're heading out now. Please get yourself into the Library or bed, and I'll be back soon."

Cora had given up telling her husband about being careful so she nodded weakly and instead squeezed her daughter's hand, a comfort knowing she had at least one of her daughter's safe and sound.

"Right," he said, pulling his coat tight around his neck. "I think we should make a move." As they stepped out onto the driveway the sky seemed to lurch above them, a thick piercing fork of lightning shot across the sky lighting up the estate in a brief millisecond. The thunder that boomed above them made Robert hesitate, his arm holding out to tell them all to stop. "Good GOD," he yelled, watching as the burning forks ripped across the sky like fiery fingers, spreading out across the horizon. Another bolt of lightning, angrier than the first, shot down into the woods in the distance to seek out its victim like a dagger.

The group collectively gasped as they all came to the same conclusion. "Carson," Robert exclaimed, turning to Bates who had already put his arm around his wife. "I hope he was nowhere near."

All of the men began to head out, not phased at all by the potential danger that the weather was now posing. They said that lightning doesn't strike twice, but considering they were heading into a minefield of lightning targets, it didn't say lightning can't strike the same area twice. Anna, ignoring shouts from Mrs Hughes, ran forward and grabbed her husband's arm. "You can't," she yelled.

"I must," Bates retorted, watching as the other men paused. Isis had already shot well ahead. "We will be fine."

Anna knew she was fighting a losing battle; her husband fixed on the cause like he normally was. Instead, rather than complaining again, she reached down and grabbed her husbands stick before pulling it under her arm. "Be careful. I don't want casualties on this awful night."

"My darling," he said quietly. "I told you about my promises. Now please, get inside into the warmth."

* * *

Mary sat completely deflated as she held Carson's hand as he lay unconscious in front of her. The rain, thankfully, had begun to ease as if the lightning strike itself had absorbed the storm clouds. The air around them had become quiet, not a rumble of thunder or flash of lightning since. The moments that had passed had seemed, in her perspective, to have turned into hours. All she wanted was him to wake up so they could try and get out of this scenario. Sybil would know what to do if she had ever been in this situation, and although Mary had herself helped out during the war, she still didn't have the skills to cope and felt so completely useless.

Part of her had thought about trying to get help, but her cold and frozen body, exhausted and broken, would not allow her. In amidst her fear and panic she had tried her best to push herself to her feet and make her way back to the house, but she had been clumsy and had nearly passed out. Instead, she had tried to make Carson as comfortable as she could. Now, she felt frightened because Carson had been hurt, and dangerously so, and she felt it about herself because she had been out for so long. This threatened her own mortality and she didn't think she could make the trek back up to the house. Would it be worse for her to potentially pass out away from Carson? Lose her way when she finally had some will to make everything right again? It was ironic that she felt this because not an hour before had she been so straight in making it all end. It was Carson she had to save, not her, and that was the driving force now.

Carson's jacket, which she had picked up off of the floor, now lay over his torso in hope of providing some sort of protection from the weather. The flashlight that had fallen from his pocket now sat in Mary's lap, but the battery was so low she daren't keep it on unless she really needed to use it. Initially, she had used it to check over his head so she could see what damage he faced, and it had made her stomach turn when she had finally found the blood.

Mary lifted her hand to his face and moved a stray strand of his hair from his forehead, blood-caked his hair and had dripped down his cheek. On the side of his face, a mottled looking mark now covered his head, cheeks and eye where a bruise had started to form. There was a scratch across his face that had been made by some smaller twigs on the branches surface, but they were superficial in comparison to the injury to his head.

Morose as Mary felt she was thankful for Carson and his presence in her life. Like a Father, he had watched her over the years, guided her and offered her the support and love she had needed. Now, because of her, he lay here, beaten and hurt because she so stubbornly could not see through the mist of pain that shrouded suffocated her normal thinking. Matthew would have been so disappointed in her, and she knew that the words Carson had spoken had been so very correct. Matthew would never have allowed her to act that way, and if he had been in the same situation as her he would never have given up for their son and for her memory. It had lifted her, slightly, from the bottom of herself and she knew that she needed to keep trying. Now, though, she knew she had to direct herself until she could see over the horizon from the night to the day. It wasn't better, but she could not sit here and let herself go because the direct impact on that could be Carson potentially losing his own life. She couldn't lose him too, and she owed him to ensure that he was ok.

Years before, when Sybil had gone off to train as a nurse and gained the skills that she then used with the soldiers during the war, Mary had remembered that her younger and wiser sister had told her that talking to people is helpful if you can do nothing else. Mary wasn't sure if the talking would be cathartic to her or if it would actually help the man before her. Carson had talked to her about her past to try to help her, so maybe she should do the same?

"My dearest Carson," she whispered, hesitating at the sound of her voice and the slight shyness she felt at doing this. "I want to apologise, firstly, for the fact that you are in this situation and for the fact that I am so weak that I cannot get you help through the fear of fainting. It's almost pathetic really. There is a letter, which I wrote not too long ago, that I hope I can read to you one day because it says so much more concisely the love and appreciation I have for you. Instead, I want to share a memory I have that I know is the point that I realised I really did love and care for you far beyond the normal realm of a servant and his family. I mean, I probably knew long before that because you have cared for me and helped me for as long as I can remember, but it was this moment I recall with the most clarity." Mary paused and tucked the jacket tighter around him as she gave herself a moment. Before the tree had fallen she had said she hadn't wanted to remember the past, but this was something that she knew she wanted to say.

"It's odd isn't it, how things are changing? It dawns on me that time is moving so quickly these days and the world around seems to be changing faster than time is passing. We are not a people where sharing emotion is a part of us, especially in the upper class, but I feel that this should be a part of the changing world."

Mary paused for a moment as she tried to remember. "I was around twelve years old at the time, and it felt as if the world was against me. Edith was at an age, not that it's changed that much, where she was trying to find her feet and we were constantly battling. Sybil spent more time on her own then, and the lack of her placid and caring influence meant that the battles between Edith and myself were intense. Poor Sybil went through a phase of not wanting to be a part of it through fear of being caught in the middle. I remember that Edith had snuck over to my bed during the night and cut my hair. I had woken up not too long after to find a clump of hair on my pillow where she had chopped so close to my scalp it left a really short patch. I got up and I yelled at her, and in a fit of rage, I hit her around the face. Of course, she ran screaming and crying to Mama and Papa's room, making out like a was a demon in the night."

"Papa came in so full of rage and shouted at me for what felt like hours. I remember the look of disappointment on his face as he looked at me, and I remember Edith smirking as she stood behind him. Mama didn't say much, not daring to interrupt him, but she knew, I could tell, that he should have shouted at Edith too. When they left I wanted to get back at Edith, but I was too upset by the whole thing so I fled the room. I headed where I knew I would find comfort, and it was to you. I had thought about it as I approached downstairs, and had a real realisation that you were the one I came to when I needed comfort because I knew you would always offer it in some way. You were awake, working hard like you normally do, and you were sat in your chair. As soon as I approached the door you looked square into my eyes and I could see that concern as you looked at my face full of tears. _My Lady?_ You said, ushering me in so you could close the door behind me and pull a chair up for me to sit on. I told you what had happened and I cried. You wrapped your arms around me and squeezed me tight. You told me carefully that I should never raise a hand to my sister because it's not what a Lady did, and it's also not what anyone should do to another person. It was the way you spoke to me though that made all the difference. You were never annoyed, you always explained properly, and made your point without me feeling small like Papa did."

Mary smiled for a moment before stroking his hair. "I remember being so upset about my hair, and I remember telling you how ugly I felt about it. You said to me, so very kindly, that hair doesn't make someone beautiful, and that it was what was inside that made a person who they were. I knew that my hair would grow back, but it still left me feeling unhappy. You told me I was a beautiful person both inside and out and not to let anyone tell me otherwise. I remember saying, _Oh Carson, I hope you're not disappointed in me like everyone else_. You looked me in the eyes, your expression so soft and caring, and you said to me, _Lady Mary, there is nothing you could do or say that would make me disappointed in you. My door will always be open if you ever need my help or advice and I don't want you to forget that_. You have been always been true to your word. It was that day though, where I knew that I cared for you and valued you as a friend. I knew that you were always going to be by my side no matter what. You would always guide me, help me and make sure that I was ok."

"And I always will," Carson croaked, his eyelids blinking as he moved back into the realm of the conscious. It was so ingrained in him, his way of working that he instantly tried to lift himself. As soon as he did, though, he let out an almighty yelp and he felt his vision swim in front of him. Instinctively, he raised his hand to his head and lay back down, the pounding and the sickness in his stomach making him wince.

"No, Carson, please," Mary said soothingly, resting her hand on his chest. "Don't move. You've had a bad hit on the head, I'm afraid. I think it best that you stay where you are."

Carson kept quiet for a moment, allowing the dizziness to subside so he could focus on Mary's face. "I'm sorry, Lady Mary."

"Oh heavens, what for?" Mary exclaimed, taking his hand back in hers. "You've gone above and beyond your job, saving me from that falling branch and taking the hit for me. Please do not apologise. It is I, Carson, that should apologise to you for putting you in this situation in the first place. I am so very sorry."

"I only want what's best for you, Lady Mary." Carson didn't want to openly say that he heard most of what she had said to him, so he instead wanted to give his own apologies. "I too must apologise for being so impertinent and outspoken with you. I did not mean to bring Mr Crawley's name up in that way, but I did not know what else to do." Carson let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes, another wave of dizziness washing over him. "I must try to get myself right so we can get back home."

"No, we can't move you. I fear I wouldn't be able to lift you and I don't think either of us is in any fit state to go anywhere."

They sat in silence as they contemplated the situation they were in, both blaming themselves and wondering how they were going to get out of it. Carson was worried about her mental state and previous actions, knowing and feeling that it was not better, but glad at least that she seemed to have some sort of direction back. Mary was worried because Carson was not a young man, had hit his head and they were both stuck in the woods with no clear way out. "My Lady?"

"Yes," she said back worriedly. "What is it?"

"Why did you end up here?" The question sat so heavily in his mind, not because he thought it would help, but because he was genuinely curious that this place of all places was where she gravitated to.

Mary sat in silence for a few moments, eyeing the tree up in her peripheral vision as she fought with herself to allow herself to explain what this place meant to her. It was too painful, so she shook her head and looked down into her lap. "I can't," she whimpered. "Not yet."

Carson didn't push but instead squeezed her hand to reassure her. "Whatever you need, My Lady. I will do whatever you need. If you ever, and I mean ever, no matter the time, need to talk then find me. If you feel lost, alone, unhappy, upset or feel like you have today then just let me know. I will always offer an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on. You are never alone. As long as I am posted at this home, and ever after, you will always find me in your corner ready to stand and fight with you. We all will. Never give up."

Mary felt the tears pool at the bottom of her eyes, but she pushed them away because she couldn't bear to let any more fall. "My core is broken, Carson. Everything that I was when I was with him has gone. I-"

"My Lady," Carson said comfortingly. "You don't have to. Not yet."

Mary nodded and gave him a little smile. "You reminded me though, Carson, you reminded me of the man I married and what he would think of this. Matthew, if in this position would stick it out until he could see beyond the grief and he would give George the very best life that he could give. I've been a terrible mother, a terrible person and a terrible friend to you. I'm sorry. Please take back the words I said to you. Forgive me?"

"As I said to you earlier, there is nothing you could say or do that would make me not care about you, My Lady, and that still stands. There is nothing to forgive."

* * *

Robert was moving as quickly as he could in and out of the trees behind the dog who had run off into the distance, sniffing and running around happily because to her it was a game, a walk and a bit of fun. Tom was keeping up with him as they moved inwards and outwards along the trails he had already traipsed. At the rear, Bates was moving as quickly as his leg would allow, his mind on his wife as he carried on for what felt like the hundredth hour that this day had moved into. Ahead of him, he could make out Thomas who was kicking some of the branches at his feet, the ones that had not been strong enough to withstand the weather as it had raged above. Satisfaction sat in Bates' stomach as he saw the annoyance painted so openly on the younger man.

The storm itself had ceased but the air was frightfully cold and the rain still fell, but with a less intense ferocity as before. They had all found their second wind of energy with the presence of the dog, who in her oblivious state, moved forward with an ignorant determination that drove the men forward.

Isis barked and lurched forward, her nose on the ground as she caught wind of something nearby. Robert could see her wagging her tail ferociously, her eyes fixed on him as she stood happily at what she had found.

"What is it, girl?" Robert said apprehensively as he tried his best to get to where she stood, his legs and back aching as he navigated the uneven ground. Around him, he could make out a familiar area, and he finally ran up behind her, breathing heavily as he struggled to catch his breath. It took him a moment, but in front of the dog lay a dead pheasant and Robert sighed. "False Alarm," he called back to the men, disappointment lacing his words like acid as he shook his head. Isis looked up happily at him, her mouth open and tongue hanging out as she looked back down at her prize. Normally, this would have been a job well done, but on this occasion, it was not what they wanted.

Robert crouched down and gave the dog some fuss before pulling out Mary's scarf from his pocket. "Here, girl," he said as cheerfully as he could. "Go find her, girl," he yelled, the dog sniffing the scarf before darting into the distance once more.

"Please," Robert pleaded with the air around him. "Please."


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the delay! I had to go away with work so I had to stop writing for around a week. Thank you so much for your patience. I appreciate all the support I've had so far, it's really been lovely :) I hope you enjoy what I've written here. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Mrs Hughes, Anna and Mrs Patmore sat around the table as the clock ticked in the distance, reminding them almost ferociously that time was moving and their people were not back. There hadn't been much conversation between them for a while, all of them lost in their thoughts, trying to get through it as best they could. They knew that they were the lucky ones, inside in the warmth and out of harm's way, but that didn't mean that it hadn't been difficult for them. Each of them felt a level of hopelessness because there was so little that they could do to help beyond household things. Anna especially was frustrated because she wanted to be out there to help Bates, to find Mary and to make sure Carson was ok. It seemed as if there was never going to be any respite from the torment and anguish that she faced both in her work life and personal life. If anything happened to Lady Mary what would happen to her?

"We're a right bunch, aren't we?" Mrs Patmore smirked; trying to lighten the mood around the table as she lifted the lid off of a deep metal container she kept hidden in one of her cupboards. They had all plied themselves repeatedly with tea, the occasional coffee and that was about it. They needed sustenance so she had put a huge vat of stew on the stove, as well as some porridge. The biscuits she had pulled out of her cupboard were her secret stash, and she normally kept them for when she had some time to herself.

"Well considering what's going on, I don't think that's a bad thing," Mrs Hughes grumbled distantly, swirling the remnants of her tea at the bottom of her cup. The sick feeling that sat at the pit of her stomach had not receded. Inside she repeatedly kept going over _their_ relationship and how she felt about _him_. What if she never got to tell him? What if this was it? Those thoughts scared her because she really cared for him. It was amazing how over the years, from the days she felt frustrated over how he did everything, to the days where it was replaced with something warm. It had taken many years, but now she adored everything about him, warts and all. Well, she knew it wasn't just a fondness now, it was something so much more than that, but she never thought their relationship would be anything more than what it was. How would the pair of them carry on in their lives and roles if things were to change? Although, when Anna and Mr Bates had gotten married it had raised the minuscule level of hope ever so slightly. The times were changing, after all.

"They'll be ok," Anna said calmly, forcing herself to nod as she raised her eyes to Mrs Hughes. "Mr Bates said he would bring them back, and I believe him."

"Oh, I don't doubt you do, Anna," responded Mrs Patmore as she wiped some biscuit crumbs from her blouse. Out of them all, Mrs Patmore knew that she had less emotional attachment to the people who were out there. It wasn't so much the lack of care for the others, because she did care for them all, but it wasn't the same. Mrs Hughes loved Mr Carson, Anna loved Mr Bates, and then there was Mrs Patmore, the lonely old cook who didn't have anything but her wooden spoon and apron. It might have been different if Daisy was out there because she was the closest thing to a daughter she could ever have; even if she did drive her up the wall.

Mrs Hughes was at that point in her tiredness where she found herself struggling to push down her emotions. There was a fuse that normally trailed out as far as the eye could see, which now sat dangerously close to her, threatening to make her explode at the slightest inconvenience. Not long beforehand, Mrs Patmore had pulled her away from her sheet folding, no doubt caused by the exclamations when Mrs Hughes couldn't get the corners right. "This whole evening seems like something out of a film," Mrs Hughes grumbled, her eyes still fixated at the small pool of tea at the bottom of her cup.

"They all pretty much end in an 'appy ending, though," Mrs Patmore said quietly as she poured herself some more tea. "I reckon if they turned the tales of this house into a film, it would make plenty o' money. There are people out there that thrive off of others misfortunes like a baby drinking from its mother."

"Who'd play you, Mrs Patmore?" Anna chuckled.

"That Marion Davis I reckon 'cause of the hair," Mrs Patmore laughed pointing to her fluffy curls.

Anna and Mrs Patmore chuckled to themselves for a few moments until Anna realised that Mrs Hughes wasn't joining in. "What about you, Mrs Hughes?"

"Oh, I don't know," Mrs Hughes grumbled, her voice echoing the frustration she felt at the light-hearted conversation. In all honesty, she didn't feel like laughing; in fact, quite the opposite. She was sure that everyone, at some point, had felt the same way. You're full of tiredness, full of emotion, and it bites at you like the bitter cold outside. All she wanted was for Mr Carson to be back in the house safe and sound. The happiness she would feel to walk into his pantry and find him scribbling away now would save her from this burning torrent of emotion inside.

"Oh come on, there's got to be someone that-"

"I said I don't know," exploded Mrs Hughes who stood up at such speed that she nearly toppled herself. The tears stung to escape, so she closed her eyes and shook them away.

"Are you ok, Mrs Hughes?" Anna queried, rising to her feet to reach out to her.

Mrs Hughes stepped back slightly and forced a smile. "I'm perfectly fine, Anna. I-I just forgot that I need to go and-"

"See her Ladyship," Mrs Patmore butted in as she tried to help her friend out. Mrs Patmore knew that Mrs Hughes had never spoken to anyone about Mr Carson, aside from herself, and wanted to keep it that way.

Mrs Hughes, shocked by Mrs Patmore's addition, simply nodded her head. "Yes. Yes, I must see her Ladyship."

Anna turned to look at Mrs Patmore questioningly, clearly being able to tell that the pair of them were lying. When she thought about it, Mrs Hughes had seemed very absent over the past few hours and at first, she thought it was because she was tired; she knew that Mrs Hughes wasn't Lady Mary's greatest fan. Now as she looked into her eyes she could see something. It was the same worried gaze she saw reflected at her when she made eye contact with Bates if he was worried. It was the look that signified a worry for someone you loved. It most certainly was not the love for Lady Mary, and the only logical person was Mr Carson. "Oh," she whispered under her breath.

Mrs Hughes, needing to get out of the kitchen, turned without saying a word leaving the other two alone. If she was going to cry, it was better alone than to show weakness and emotion in front of the others. Everyone knew she was a stern woman, who had a soft centre, but that didn't mean she wanted to let it be so open.

Once Mrs Hughes was out of view, Anna sat down again into her chair. "How long has that been going on for?" she said with a quizzical look on her face. The dots began to fall together as she thought about how Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson were together. The long gazes, the slight smiles, the hours spent talking to each other in the evenings and the deep-set worry in Mrs Hughes eyes confirming it like a beacon in a fog.

Mrs Patmore turned her face up, her head tilting to the side almost as she tried to coyly avoid Anna's eyes. "I don't quite understand what you mean? We've been bloody waiting for them to find Lady Mary for hours now. No wonder Mrs Hughes is so grumpy."

The silence between them could be broken with a knife as they both looked at each other. Anna knew instantly, once their eyes connected, that Mrs Patmore knew exactly what she had meant. "Don't play silly buggers with me," Anna chided, grabbing a biscuit from the tin. "I saw it there as plain as day!... Are they?"

"Are they what?" Mrs Patmore exclaimed, her hand lifting so quick the biscuit broke in half.

"Together?" Anna blurted, a bit of excitement resting in her chest at the thought of it.

"Bloody 'ell, Anna. I told you, Mrs Hughes is just tirreeeeddd."

"I saw that look, Mrs Patmore, you can't deny it now. She loves him." Anna smirked a little and took a sip of her tea.

"W-w-well," Mrs Patmore froze like a rabbit under the flashlight. "Oh alright," she hissed, conceding defeat. "Yes, she does. Please don't say anything to anyone though. It's not my business to tell. They're not in any way shape or form…together. They are both fond of each other, very much, and you're right that it's as clear as day. The conversation between them has never been 'ad, though. Mr Carson is who he is, and Mrs Hughes is who she is, and they are both dedicated to the job."

"I suppose you're right. Life is too short though, Mrs Patmore," she said quietly as her mind drifted to her husband, reminding her again about their plights. "Sometimes I think that we need to push the formalities aside if it means to be happy. If they are meant to be with each other then they should be."

"You don't have to tell me twice, Anna. I had a similar chat with her a few hours ago."

"What a strange day this has turned out to be," Anna said glumly, the brief bit of excitement she had felt evaporating into the air around them. "I wish it to be over so very soon."

Mrs Patmore didn't say anything, instead, she raised her cup and nodded her head almost like a salute of agreeance. Then the room fell quiet as they both began to get lost in their thoughts once more.

* * *

Edith sat in one of the single chairs in the library, thumbing at the pages of a book as she felt the warmth of the flames lap at her body like a dogs tongue. The letter, which she had yet to give to Anna, was now tucked at the back of the book making it easier to carry. The voice inside had told her repeatedly that she needed to give it to Anna, but then she kept reasoning that it was not going to do anyone any good. The whole family and everyone downstairs was preoccupied with what her sister had done. The letter would dampen the spirits of them all, because it would solidify that this whole debacle was purposefully orchestrated. Of course, she had also thought about the fact that this letter would prove just how selfish her sister was being. Edith didn't understand but knew that whatever was going on in her sister's head was not something that she agreed with. Initially, she had wanted to give the letter to Anna as a way for her to see what her reaction would be and if she would go and get the other letters from this supposed secret spot. Then she rationalised with herself and realised that the letter should only be given out if the results of her sister's wishes were completed. If everyone in the house knew what it was she had sought, would it make them search harder? Of course not, because every person in the house was already running around on no sleep trying to find her.

"Oh, Mama," Cora said in an exasperated tone as she entered into the library with her mother in law in tow.

"This is ridiculous. Vanishing into the night like this with no thought or care to what this would do to us," Violet said angrily, trying to ignore the eating guilt that sat in her chest. The people around her knew that she was stern, and so it was hard for her to break that at that moment, but the conversation she had previously had with her oldest granddaughter sat in her chest like a burning dagger. It was her that said she needed to choose, and she knew that this was a culmination of that.

"Granny," Edith said calmly, making sure the envelope was tucked deep into the pages of the book so it didn't show. "You should be asleep."

"I do not sleep a great deal, my dear. At my age, one knows that soon the permanent sleep will come so why waste the time we have?" Violent gave Edith the gaze of knowing before sitting down as close to the fire as she could get herself. "Doctor Clarkson and Cousin Isobel are still chatting out there, are they?"

"Yes," Cora said tiredly. "I didn't want you to have to come up here, Mama. It's late."

"I wouldn't say it was late. I could hear the birds chirping in the trees when I got out of the car like Cockatoos. In times like these, it's always frightfully annoying to be so far away from what's going on. If you're here then you know. I know how sometimes I slip your minds! There is someone in the house who can tell me if she shows."

"It's rare to have such weather in this area. I've not had a chance to treat much in terms of exposure for a long time," Dr Clarkson said softly to Isobel as they both walked into the library.

"Dr Clarkson and I were just trying to come to a conclusion on the best course of treatment for exposure," Isobel said confidently, her soft expression masking the worry she had for her daughter-in-law. The news had hit her hard, and she had wanted to be up in the house straight away, but she battled with herself because she didn't want to meddle for once. The loss of Matthew had been awful for her, and as she received the news that Mary had vanished, she knew the likely route of her logic.

It hadn't been so long before that she had said _'I'm grateful, but, you see, when your only child dies, then you're not a mother anymore…you're not anything really.'_

The period of loss for her had left her feeling so very alone, the years of love and dedication ending so suddenly so she did not know what to do with herself. It had been agony to go about her day without the person she had dedicated her life to nearby. There had been many times she had questioned the point of her continuing, and no matter how many times her grandson was mentioned, or the rest of her family, she had not been able to push herself over it. In time though it had arrived and her purpose was rediscovered. Matthew would have been proud, and she knew that. It was just hard to know that Mary had not yet gotten to that point.

"How wonderful," Violet said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she normally did. "I'm sure your years of expertise are being put to good use!"

"Well, I have had a bit. It's always good to assert oneself where possible," Isobel said chirpily, ignoring the overt glare from her cousin.

"So what is it going to take to get a cup of tea around here? Carson hasn't been in the house for a few hours and already I may have to fend for myself!" Violet stamped her stick onto the floor and stared pointedly at Cora, who just shook her head and rang the bell.

* * *

The sky above them had started to turn to that dark blue before the sun finally rose, signifying that the light was going to get better and be in their favour. Robert was instinctively walking in a straight line that he knew followed on from where he had walked before, and they all walked in a line behind Isis who had bolted off into the distance. The birds above were chirping in the trees above them, singing their songs and chatting happily as the morning arrived. The air around them was almost still, a light rustling above them as a breeze moved through the trees, but the air aside from that was very relaxed in comparison to a short while previously.

All of the men had said very little to each other the further into the woods they got. They all were so dead-set on their goal, lost in their thoughts and so completely exhausted that it was taking most of their energy to keep trudging on. Robert and Bates were feeling it the most, Bates' leg causing agonising spasms with each step he took, and Robert felt like he was lifting marble instead of legs.

Echoing off of the trees around them they could hear Isis bark loudly, signalling that she had found something. Robert ran forward towards her, his legs and back aching as he jumped over a log. Tom ran ahead faster, his younger body and legs navigating the terrain with ease as he created distance between them all. The light from the rising sun was coming thick and fast making it easier to see Isis's bright fur amidst the browns and greens. The dog was nuzzling something on the floor and Tom skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the scene before him.

Carson was lying flat on his back, his skin pale against the crimson red of the blood on his head, and the bruises that marked his face. Mary was slumped over at his side, her hand holding onto Carson's and her head resting inches from his shoulder. Tom didn't quite know what to do first, his instinct to go to Carson first because of how bad he looked, but instead, he ran with his heart and knelt at Mary's side. Instantly, his hand moved to rest just in front of her mouth where he felt the small push of air from her mouth. "Mary," he said worriedly, gently shaking her body. When she didn't rouse he turned his attention to Carson and did the same to him.

"Good, God!" Robert cried as he came into the area, his face instantly dropping and the colour draining from his face. "Oh, my darling."

"They're both alive," Tom nodded, moving some of Carson's hair to one side to see if he could see the wound. "I don't think Carson is well at all. We need to get them both up to the house as soon as we can."

"Well that's speaking the obvious," Thomas muttered under his breath so only Bates could hear.

"Barrow, get over here now," Robert shouted as he turned his gaze to the younger servant. "If there is anything you can do now then please do it."

Thomas wanted to roll his eyes, but when he finally looked down at Carson's unconscious face he felt a pang of worry. Carson had not been kind to him over the years, but most of the time it was caused by himself, and he had overlooked some of his wrongdoings. "Yes, My Lord," he said before getting down on his knees. First, he looked at Mary, his fingers moving to her throat so he could feel her pulse. "She's very weak," he said, hardly able to feel her pulse on her neck. "I can't see any obvious signs of injury that I can tend to."

"She is alive though, my Lord. We will get her back," Bates said confidently, kneeling to be level with everyone.

When Thomas started looking at Carson he ripped a part of his shirt and pressed it against the wound. As he had done just moments before, he checked the pulse and shook his head. "We need to get him up to the house as quick as we can, my Lord, It's a nasty head wound."

All of them began organising themselves so they could get the job done. Robert had to lean against a tree just for a moment, bile burning the back of his throat as he looked down at his daughter. The emotion that had sat with him when he had been walking with Carson returned, making the tears try and force their way out. "Oh, my dear Mary," he said sadly before pulling himself together and beginning their long trek back up to the house.


	12. Chapter 12

Cora looked out of the library window absently; the warm oranges and pinks covered the sky, the clouds like cotton wool mirroring these beautiful colours as the sun began to rear its head. The room behind her was silent; all of the occupants keeping themselves busy one way or the other. The current preoccupation was a game of cards, and much to Violet's delight had fallen in her favour repeatedly. The night had left Cora feeling somewhat bewildered, the agony of having lost a child weighing her down like an iron coat, the fear of losing another scratching at her like a rabid animal, and making it feel like she was going to snap. Considering the up-hill struggle it had taken to keep her emotions in check, she thought she had done quite well, especially with Robert not being there.

"I think I better go lie down," Edith muttered quietly, lifting herself from her chair and tucking a book beneath her arm. "I'm feeling frightfully exhausted."

Cora turned to give her middle chid a smile. "Go rest, darling. We will wake you if anything changes."

"Won't you go get some rest, Mama?" Edith queried, seeing the dark circles under her Mother's eyes.

"I don't think I could possibly rest right now. I couldn't bear it if anything happened and I was upstairs," Cora replied solemnly, getting up to give her daughter a comforting touch on the arm. "Go on, go to bed."

The calm withdrawn atmosphere of the library suddenly shifted as Tom burst into the room, his face covered in sweat and his cheeks flushed red. "Dr Clarkson," he yelled as he made eye contact with the man, his breath catching as he panted, trying to get his wind back. "They're coming. We need you."

The room exploded into movement, the sound of cups on saucers as the tea was put down, the shuffling of fabric on chairs as people moved to be standing, and the mumbling of questioning words. Cora pushed past everyone else and ran towards the front door, her hand rising to her mouth as she watched as Robert walked in with her daughter in his arms. "No!" she cried, rushing over, her stomach somersaulting as her initial reaction was to think the worst.

Robert had a small vein popping out on his forehead, the strain it had taken him painted on his face, and his legs wobbling as they threatened to give out. A small ounce of frustration catapulted into his head as he tried frantically to find a place to put his daughter, the last thing he wanted was to drop her. "Cora, please," he said sternly. "I need to put her down. She is alive, but we need to get her warm, let's go to the library."

"No, it's too warm in there. If they've been out in that weather we need to gradually warm the main trunk of the body first. If we warm the arms and legs it'll push the cold blood to her heart and could make it stop," Dr Clarkson yelled as he moved into view. "Bring her in, take her in there and onto some carpet. We need blankets."

Isobel picked up a pile of blankets that had been placed near the door by Mrs Hughes some hours earlier. "Someone has already thought ahead."

Robert looked around to see which way to walk and his ears were assaulted with various questions, exclamations and mumbles. It made him want to scream. "Please," he yelled. "Can we all just calm down? Let me through and put Mary down, and then we can talk about it."

Isobel turned to look at Edith as the closest person to her. "Go get Mrs Hughes and Anna. Tell them we need more blankets. Could you get Mrs Patmore to make some tea and warm some water."

Edith didn't say anything, her gaze fixated on her sister's face. It was hard for her to figure out how she was feeling at the sight of her unconscious sibling. When Sybil was in jeopardy, her whole body had ached with worry. Standing there, her sister in an unknown state of wellness, she only felt a remote sense of unease. Was it because she knew that it was her sister's wish? Or was it that their relationship had been so fractured over the years that she just had no proper emotion about it? "Yes, of course," she retorted, letting her gaze rest on Mary once again before she made her way downstairs.

Bates and Thomas walked in behind them, both of them spreading the weight as evenly as they could of their unconscious colleague. Now the light had returned to the land, the bruising and blood on Carson's face now looked so much worse. Bates' face was crumpled up in agony, the struggle to get Carson up to the house weighing heavily on his leg. At first, nobody noticed them come in behind until Dr Clarkson looked up when Bates grunted.

"Mr Carson," Dr Clarkson exclaimed, rushing over to the unconscious man's body. "Get him in here. I need to have a look at his head."

Everyone had made their way to the great hall. The room itself wasn't overly warm, but in comparison to the air outside, it was adequate for what they needed. Both Mary and Carson were placed gently onto the rug, their bodies lined next to each other with just enough space so that Dr Clarkson could rest on his knees between them. The rest of the family that was gathered there stood so they could watch on with minimal impact to Dr Clarkson's movements, eager to see the resolution to the mess that had been that evening. Isobel had placed the thickest of the blankets over Mary and Carson's torso's to begin the warming process, and she stood as close as she could to the pair of them, eager to help in any way that she could.

Violet sat into the nearest chair, weary and worried, she gazed sadly upon her granddaughter and the Butler with a glum and nonchalant expression on her face. It was prudent that she have a conversation with her granddaughter, if she ever could again, to go over the talk she had had with her those few weeks ago. Regret was not much of an emotion that warranted time in the Dowager's mind, her years of experience with family and situations creating a rationale that rarely wavered from correct, but here it lay before her. It was not the intent of the conversation that she held to ransom, but how it was communicated. Watching as Dr Clarkson checked over Mary, she felt that pang of regret slice at her from deep within her well-weathered core. Nobody knew of what she had said to her, and she would never admit to them all about her misdirected communications, but it didn't stop her feeling it any less.

Robert sat down next to his mother, his hands clasped together as he stared upon the fallen, eyes wide with worry and heart low in his chest. The whole of the night weighed upon him like the world was sat on his shoulders, his body resigning into itself as he leaned his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands. Noticing the almost defeated like pose, Tom walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Robert, are you ok?"

"We Crawley's battle through like a steam train," Violet said quietly, her eyes not moving from Mary.

"You are correct, Mama," Robert said unhappily, even though there was a worry in his heart he had to try to appease his mother. "I'm fine, Tom. It's all just been a bit much. I hope we found her in time." The dread of losing another daughter wreaked havoc within him. The true side to his emotions had almost taken hold of him when he was out in woods with Carson, but now he was here in front of everyone, he had to do his best to keep himself in check.

Cora walked over to her husband and sat down at his side, resting her hand in his as she gazed upon his broken face. "Dr Clarkson wants to get them down to the hospital."

"Yes, I think that's for the best. What did he say about them?"

"It's hard to say," she said, forcing the tears back from her eyes as she leaned closer to him, needing to feel him near her. Their family had been beaten over and over again. They had lost a daughter and their oldest lay before them with no concrete information on whether she would be ok. The room around her went out of focus as she gazed upon Mary, looking at her pale and expressionless face and body under blankets. Would they ever get a reprieve? The resolve she had built over the night like a shroud covering her emotions began to dissolve, the exhaustion intertwined with an acute and overpowering worry bubbled slowly to the surface so she had to instinctively bury her head into Robert's shoulder.

The warmth from Cora's face against him made him look down to where she was. Sensing her emotional shift he placed his arm around her. "I'm sorry, my darling."

Cora didn't lift her head as she tried to compose herself, but she still spoke into his coat. "Whatever for?"

"I just feel this could have been averted or finished sooner if I had truly thought about our actions and plan. Poor Mary, and look at Carson," he paused to look upon the pair of them before him. "Loyal and stubborn, he's been minimised to a beaten mess. I am thankful for all that have helped. I fear that if Tom hadn't been there I would have fallen long before getting back to the house."

"There is no need to thank me. We are family, and family sticks together," Tom insisted, squeezing Robert's shoulder. "I'm going to go and round everyone up. There are still men out there searching so I think it best we get them all back to their homes."

"Good idea, Tom. Thank you."

Bates was leant against one of the pillars, his body doubled over as he rubbed his leg, trying to alleviate the agony that cascaded down his muscles. The pain and tension he knew would now last him a significant period, his body taking an increased amount of time now to heal. A hand came up to touch him on the elbow, and by the way it caressed the back of his upper arm on the way down he knew It was Anna. "My love," he whispered, turning to face her.

"I've been so worried. Are you ok?" Anna said calmly as she tried to take in his facial expression, noticing how his eyebrows were pushed together signifying he was in pain. "How is your leg?"

"I'll be fine. It's just sore. Come here," he mumbled affectionately, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he guided her into his chest. As soon as her face touched his chest he felt her melt into him, and he kissed her on top of the head. The blankets pressed into Bates, so she moved them to the side and out of the way. "I love you."

Anna lifted her head to look at him, a small smile on her face. "I love you too."

The bickering between Violet and Isobel made her turn to the room behind her, her eyes falling instantly to the people on the floor. When Edith had come downstairs she hadn't been descriptive about the result of the search, just that both Mary and Carson were back. What lay before her she had not been expecting and she took a sharp intake of breath as she looked down at their unconscious faces. "Oh God," she exclaimed.

"We found them both like that," Bates whispered in Anna's ear. "Dr Clarkson wants to get them to the hospital, he said he wants to get Lady Mary on fluids and keep her warm and see how she goes. Carson has a nasty head wound so we won't know much as there could be swelling."

Anna remembered that Mrs Hughes had gone to get the thick wool blankets from storage so she wouldn't be far behind. "Mrs Hughes," she whispered, looking behind her as she saw the older woman come out of the door, her arms heavily laden with blankets. The new insight into the way Mrs Hughes felt towards Carson made her worry about the older woman's reaction.

"I found them, Anna," she mumbled lethargically, her eyes downcast as she came up behind her.

"Mrs Hughes," Anna repeated, putting the blankets into Bates' arms as she reached out to her.

"Yes?" Mrs Hughes queried, oblivious to what Anna was trying to shield her from. When she saw Anna's expression, her previous lethargic state evaporated. "What is it?"

Anna realised that she didn't know what to say when Mrs Hughes gazed into her eyes. At first, she had wanted to do a bit of damage control or distract her from the scene that lay behind them. Realistically, though, she was going to find out, wasn't she? "It's Mr Carson," Anna quietly said, her face showing the sorry to the older woman. "He's not in a good way."

"What?" Mrs Hughes exclaimed, moving to the side to look over Anna's shoulder. The colour drained from her face like sand in an hourglass, her eyes growing wide and her mouth dropping open. Only Anna could see the fact that she looked like she was going to cry, so she touched her on the arm. The corners of her lips dropped like Carson's had when she had caught him sulking in the pantry, and she swallowed hard. Panic gripped her like a vice, making her want to run to his side and make sure that he was ok. The love she felt for him made it so much worse, her heart beginning to race as she tried to formulate the potential possibilities of his fate, the dull ache that sat in her chest as her heart constricted for him. It was times like these when the instinct to protect and help teetered on the edge of pushing over the boundary that her job restricted her to. Mrs Hughes was also about propriety, although not to the same level as Mr Carson, but why did serving the Crawley family become the priority over the love and respect from the man before her? In light of the situation, if she did act on her impulses, she knew that the family were kind, and if she pushed against the reluctance to remain where she was stood they probably wouldn't reprimand her. What she wanted, above all else, was to touch him, deduce her conclusions and tell him how she truly felt. The idea that the chance of that ever happening had now dwindled to an ember right in front of her eyes made a cold swim through her veins as that realisation materialised in every cell of her being.

"Ah, Mrs Hughes," piped Isobel, walking away from the argumentative conversation she had been having with her cousin. "I'll take those blankets from you."

The call of her name from one of the members of the family made Mrs Hughes take a deep breath in an attempt to pull herself under control, her eyes blinking away any tears that may have been there and her mind pushing away her feelings as best it could. "Yes," she faltered momentarily. "Yes, Mrs Crawley."

"It would be good if you could arrange for Lady Mary and Mr Carson to have some personal belongings for the Hospital," Isobel said proudly, in that way she did when she thought she was helping.

Anna stepped forward, her hand reached out to Mrs Hughes' elbow and she squeezed it. "We will get onto that now, Mrs Crawley. Thomas, could you gather Mr Carson's items?" Anna nodded, handing her the pile of blankets she had also gathered. Thomas looked up from his position in the corner and nodded his head, not saying a word as they all left to get on with their task.

Dr Clarkson was now stood talking to the family as Isobel placed another blanket over both Carson and Mary. "Once they're down at the hospital I'll be able to do some tests," he said gently, his Scottish accent soft as he spoke to them. "We've got them now, so now we just have to get them better."

"What do you think, though, honestly?" Robert wondered, his legs too tired to stand up to talk, so he stayed seated.

"Honestly. Long exposure to cold temperatures can cause significant complications, and I need to evaluate her over some time once I've given her some fluids and maintained her core temperature. I can see that the cold has caused chilblains and sores associated with exposure, so I'll need to treat those as best as I can. It doesn't look like it's bad frostbite, but the sores may stay present for a while. I'm more optimistic than not, she's weak, but still here with us. Carson, on the other hand, I'm just not sure. The fact he's unconscious makes it quite difficult to evaluate the head wound, so I need to get it cleaned up and we need to monitor him. The problem with head injuries as it's difficult to know if there is any swelling or bleeding on the brain. So, my honesty can only go so far given what I've been presented with, and that's not me being difficult, I just don't want to give any false hope or the opposite."

"Well that's not very helpful really, is it?" Violet grumbled as she fiddled with her walking stick, her eyes coring a hole into Dr Clarkson's gaze.

"No, but it's the best that can be done given the situation we have been faced with," Robert asserted unhappily. "We found them and now they are safe, we will deal with the rest as it comes." When he raised his hand to his face and dragged it down, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his gaze to keep himself focused for that bit longer.

Dr Clarkson, unperturbed by the Dowager's ice-stare, did his jacket up. "The ambulances should be here soon, so I think it's best we get them ready. I would suggest that you all stay here and get some rest-"

"I'm going with you," Cora demanded, getting up from her seat. "I need to be with her. I'll go down, Robert, I want you to go and get some rest. Edith, you too."

"Are you sure?" Robert queried, standing up to meet her gaze.

"As sure as the sun will set this evening. I'm not leaving her alone for a minute more." Cora kneeled to be at Mary's side, her hand moving a stray strand of hair from her face. The whole feel of the way she knelt next to her daughter reminded her starkly of the time she sat next to Sybil after she had passed away, and it reinforced her need to stay with Mary.

Robert placed his hand softly on Cora's shoulder, his thumb rubbing the back of her neck. The energy and sheer defiance he had felt for the whole night meant that there wasn't much left he had to give, so he shook his head. "Bates, good fellow. Can you give word to any of the servants that have been up all night to take the day? Ask Mrs Patmore to make sure that the men that come back are fed and sent on their way, then tell her to get herself some rest."

Bates stepped forward slowly, his face grimacing with every step he took. Not wanting to make too much of a scene, he swallowed hard and tried to force himself to walk properly. "Yes, My Lord. I've been informed that Daisy went to bed a few hours ago, so she will cover any menial duties in the meantime."

Robert nodded, his attention turning to the influx of people coming through the door that carried stretchers, and he knew that his daughter was going to get well-needed treatment soon. The room filled with hustle and bustle as things were moved, Carson and Mary were placed on the stretchers and Dr Clarkson gave out orders. Leaning against the side of a chair, Robert felt his heart sink, not knowing how he got to this point, or how his family did, and all he wanted to do was make it all right.

* * *

It hadn't taken Anna and Mrs Hughes long to put together some clothes for Mary, only packing mainly nightclothes and a few minor accessories out of habit. The silence between the two of them was tense, Mrs Hughes not wanting to reply to anything Anna said, her cracked resolve teetering on the edge of complete dissolution. They had descended back into the great hall and given the bags to Thomas, who had a small case with some personal belongings for Mr Carson. Mr Carson had a simple wardrobe, and simple lifestyle, his whole life devoted to service, so it hadn't surprised Thomas that he didn't have much to pack.

Once Mary and Carson had been placed into the ambulances, the car had been readied with their belongings and Cora, Violet, Isobel and Dr Clarkson climbed inside. Thomas placed the bags on the rear of the car, tying them onto the back so they were secure before the journey.

Robert held onto his wife's hand as she leant towards the door of the car. "I'll come down in a few hours."

Cora shook her head wearily. "No, I want you to get some rest, Robert. You've been out in the awful weather too, and I think you should let your body get over that before you come down. I don't want to have to worry about you too. You've had an awful night. I'll be fine."

"I'll keep her company," Isobel chimed behind them.

"The poor woman wants to be there for her daughter, I don't think she wants any more of a burden to her day," Violet grumbled, straightening herself as she raised her chin high to look out of the window.

Cora turned to look at Violet and shook her head. "Now go to bed," Cora chided, pulling her hand from Robert's grasp. "I'll call if there is any change."

Thomas closed the door and the cars moved away, cruising slowly down the drive, the ambulances making headway. Robert watched them go into the distance until he couldn't see them anymore and then moved into the house.

Mrs Hughes stood patiently just within the doorway, waiting for Robert to come back inside so she could talk to him. As he walked through the threshold he made eye contact with her and noted her worried expression. "Mrs Hughes, I think you ought to get some rest too."

"Your Lordship?" she mumbled reluctantly, her normal confident manner nowhere to be seen. "Would it be possible to spend some time with Mr Carson this evening or tomorrow? If he wakes up, I'd hate to have him be on his own," she queried delicately, knowing that the running of the house was going to fall primarily onto her and Thomas's shoulders in Mr Carson's absence.

Robert sensed her dislodged confidence and eyed her carefully. It didn't surprise him that the Butler and Head Housekeeper would develop a relationship over time, and he supposed they had become good friends over the years. "Of course. We will work something out, Mrs Hughes. Let's have this discussion once I'm awake, and we can also have a look at our house responsibilities whilst Carson is recovering."

Mrs Hughes nodded gratefully. "Thank you." Turning on her heel, she began making her way towards the door to the downstairs.

"Mrs Hughes?" Robert called, pausing his ascent up the stairs.

"Yes, your lordship?" she questioned, pausing as her hand was just about to touch the door.

"He's a stubborn man. I think it would take a lot more to keep our Carson down for long." And with that, he smiled and continued the massive trek that felt like the stairs were going to be.

Once Robert was out of view, Mrs Hughes leant her head against the door, her hand shaking as she tried to grab the doorknob. "Oh I hope so," she whispered sadly. "I really hope so."

* * *

**Thank you so much for taking the time to read the next installment :) I hope you're enjoying it. Let me know how what you think! I love how this has moved into a bit more Chelsie than I first intended. I loveeeeeee them 3**


	13. Chapter 13

**Oh it's been a long old month which has seen me travelling a lot, so no writing. This will likely be the last chapter before Christmas, as I'll be still working. I'd say there is probably another chapter or two left of this fic, but then I'll be using it to set up something else at the end :P Thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it! And as always, let me know what you think! Is there a bit you love? Dislike? I appreciate all feedback :) It's how we get better after all! Have a nice Christmas :D**

* * *

Mrs Hughes sat idly on her bed, her head bowed and her hands aimlessly twisting at a handkerchief she kept on her bedside table. Exhausted as she was she just couldn't settle, her heart, stomach and head all jumbled, knotted and twisted as she tried to wrap her head around the day gone by. The realisation, not that it had been the first time in her years, at how fickle life was ate at her so aggressively she questioned her whole direction in life. What she did know about her direction was that she had inadvertently found a man who she cared for more than anyone she had ever done in her life; that was the truth. It wasn't just a realisation brought on by intense worry and pressure, but something that had awoken within her and made everything click so cleanly into place that it felt like it was most certainly meant to be. It was like the last piece of a jigsaw, so expansive and intricate, that when it finally connected with all the other parts it made her complete; that was what it felt like for her. It made what she felt even more powerful, knowing that the piece to her puzzle could be gone without her ever having made it truly hers to keep.

It had only been an hour since she had come up to bed, and part of her wanted to get cracking on some work before things got difficult. The lack of Carson would mean things would ramp up significantly for her, but as most people in the house were in bed everything was at an eerie level of calm for that time of day. Deciding that it was best to get changed for bed to at least try sleep, she pulled her nightdress out and got changed into it, the chill of the air biting at her feet as she did and then she climbed under the covers. It didn't take long for them to warm around her, her body heat intermingling with the fibres until her feet warmed up.

The image of Carson lying still on the floor forced its way to the forefront of her mind, and she bowed her head again, pushing away the tears that eagerly burnt at the corners of her eyes. The sturdy resolve that she was so familiar with, had built up for years, that had held her together during the previous agonising hours began to dissolve. Mrs Hughes had always been strong, and most things in her life she had battled with such force that people had relied on her during a crisis. Now though, it felt a little different, it felt like she had finally found a chink in her armour. That chink, that weak point, the soft spot that left her feeling open and vulnerable was him; it was Carson. "Oh, you silly fool," she whispered, not sure if it was directed at herself or him.

Mrs Hughes exhaled forcefully as she tried to compose herself, her throat feeling sore as she tried to swallow the large lump that seemed to encase the emotional turmoil and exhaustion within her. It sat there in its angry state, moving closer and closer to the surface, sending images into her head of Carson's handsome face. It all became too much and the tears cascaded down her cheeks, her hands coming up to wipe them away as quickly as they came. In doing so, her eyes became red and she pushed her face into the duvet cover along with a whimper. She was ashamed by her expulsion of proper emotion, and not wanting to let anyone let on. The idea of him not being around anymore, not being with her in the day and evenings, not giving her that wry little smile he did when he looked at her, his deep booming voice not there to resonate in the halls, and how she wouldn't be able to tell him what she wanted and felt cut her up so deeply.

Anna and Mrs Patmore stood outside Mrs Hughes' bedroom door, looking at each other with worried expressions as they both heard the small whimper from inside of the room before them.

"Shall we go in?" Mrs Patmore whispered, a small tray of tea in her hand and a freshly made sandwich. Everyone that had come back had eaten the stew she had made, and she and Anna hadn't long eaten. Mrs Hughes, they knew, hadn't eaten anything, and with Mrs Patmore being a natural feeder, she'd cut the thickest pieces of bread, the thickest slices of cheese and a small dollop of pickle; just the way Mrs Hughes liked her sandwiches. They didn't get to eat them often like that though, and it was usually a treat. Mrs Patmore could make the most extravagant meals, but sometimes all they craved was a simple hearty sandwich.

"We can't leave her like that. Poor woman, she's probably heartbroken," Anna whispered back, lifting her hand to the door. They both looked at each other momentarily, and Mrs Patmore gave her a reluctant nod, and they walked in. Both of them knew that Mrs Hughes had been there for the pair of them so many times over the years, and she had lifted them when they felt down, backed their corner when they needed it, and held their hands when required. Mrs Hughes leads them all with a strict and stringent regime, but she also pushed against the rules and Carson's even stricter hand when she needed to, and they had all been thankful for that. Mrs Hughes was almost like the strict mother with a firm hand but warm embrace.

Mrs Hughes initial expression was one of shock, her head lifting from the covers, eyes watery and red as she quickly wiped at them to hide her state of upset. "Is everything ok?" she queried, looking at the pair of them as they stood with sombre expressions on their faces. "Any news?"

Mrs Patmore shook her head and placed the tray on the bedside table, pulling the chair that Mrs Hughes had in the corner of her room close to the bed. "We came to see how you are."

Feeling her vulnerability burning in the air around her for all to see, Mrs Hughes tried to shrug the question off, not sure how to respond. "I'm fine," she said through pursed lips, her eyes avoiding the boring glances from the two women near her.

Anna sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on Mrs Hughes', giving it a gentle squeeze as she sought out Mrs Hughes' eyes. "Come now, Mrs Hughes. You're amongst friends."

Mrs Patmore nodded. "You are. And we can tell that you ain't alright, Mrs Hughes. So we came to check on you before we settled ourselves."

Mrs Hughes turned her glance to the small window in her room, watching as the sun peeped out from behind a white cloud, a complete contrast to the clouds the day before. No matter the circumstances, the world and time continued, but it felt like her world was halted in a state of limbo without knowing what was going on with Mr Carson. When she thought about how she was she felt her heart constrict, and again the pale face of Mr Carson flashed before her, making her close her eyes to try and push it away. What she wanted to do was lie, not liking the idea of being at the forefront of others attentions. It was not like her to feel so emotional, her usual firm but caring demeanour seemed to have left her. The more she tried to force it away, the more it bubbled to the surface, her bottom lip beginning to quiver as she thought about him. "I'm exhausted," she whispered.

"Now listen 'ere," Mrs Patmore demanded, moving her chair closer to the bed. "We've been through this already and we get it, we know you ARE tired, but we also know that you're not ok. So stop bloody fibbin' and tell us. Talking lightens the load, and that's what friends are for."

Mrs Hughes knew she had been in this situation a few times in the past day, and the two women before her were kind and thoughtful and only wanted to help. It was hard though, because most of the time Mrs Hughes carried her burdens on her shoulders, not wanting to seem weak, not wanting to pass them on to other people because she knew, no matter what, that she could carry her problems and get through anything. Carson, though, made it all fall on its head in a way she had never experienced. The warmth she felt for him, the way she cared for him, and the way he made her feel seemed to push everything to a heightened sense and she didn't like the vulnerability it created for her. However, it was a new situation for her, not having much behind her in terms of male fondness, and she knew that the women would help her in any way that they could.

"I-I," she paused, swallowing as she tried to line her thoughts up. "I'm terrified."

Anna rubbed Mrs Hughes' hand and nodded apathetically. "And that's ok, Mr Hughes. I think we all are to a degree. Nobody wants to think about the house without Mr Carson at the helm."

Mrs Hughes nodded with a wide-eyed expression. "Yes. I mean-"

"But it's not the same for you, is it, eh?" Mrs Patmore nodded. "May I say something?"

"Like either of us could stop you, Mrs Patmore," Anna smirked, trying to lift Mrs Hughes' spirits.

"When we spoke earlier, I said to you that people like us rarely make it outside of service. I told you that you'd be stupid to let this go-"

"I know," Mrs Hughes said loudly, shocking herself with her projected volume. "And I don't want to, but look at where we are. Look at where HE is. What if I never get the chance to tell him exactly how I feel? To try and not let this go as you say. It's made me realise now that I've been stupid not to say anything sooner, to let it all go along like this and living in a state of denial. What if I don't get to tell him? What if he doesn't make it?…" her voice trailed off and she tried to stop her bottom lip from quivering, the tears making her vision seem like she was under the water as they washed over her eyes. Ignoring the fact that the women were present she began to cry, letting it all come out now she had verbalised what she felt to them and it didn't seem to want to stop.

Mrs Patmore shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Mrs Hughes sniffed. "I know you're only trying to help. I just can't get my head around it, I can't bear to think about him lying there alone and potentially never coming back." Mrs Hughes raised both of her hands to her face and sighed, feeling so drained and emotional. "I'm honestly terrified."

"I remember the first time Mr Bates and I verbalised how we truly felt about each other. It was the most warming and terrific moment I had ever experienced in my life. Mrs Hughes," she said giving the older woman a kind smile. "Mr Carson is the most stubborn man I have ever met…well, aside from my Mr Bates. I feel it in my waters that he'll be ok. You know what you need to do though. I want you to have each other like I have Bates. I think this has shocked you into realising your true feelings for him in such a powerful way that you have to act on it. Life is short, Mrs Hughes-"

"Too bloody right," Mrs Patmore muttered under her breath.

Anna kept a calm and kind expression on her face. "Regardless of what is proper and what is right, you feel something for him that you can't contain anymore. I know he feels the same about you, we can both tell by how he is with you, the little glances he gives you when you aren't paying attention-"

"How he was when you thought you were ill. I've never seen the man so chipper in all me years 'ere when you found out you were ok. It was like the man had won a massive sum of money, or his horse had come in at the races, and that was all you, Mrs Hughes. Truly. When you were trying to keep it all quiet, he came to me so many times and I could see how worried he was. I've seen him flap and worry over people and things over the years, but this was different, his eyes spoke louder than anything he said." Mrs Patmore stared at her with a wide-eyed expression; so pure and honest as she remembered the time she was speaking about.

Mrs Hughes nodded, wiping the remaining tears from her face. "I feel so stupid," she muttered.

Anna could see the uncomfortable look on her face and turned to Mrs Patmore. "Make Mrs Hughes a good cup of tea, I think she needs it. No need to feel stupid at all. Honestly, I think we've all been there in one way or another and we've all come out of it on the other side. Working in the environment we do makes it difficult for these things to progress, but look at me and Mr Bates, look at what we have overcome."

Mrs Patmore grumbled as she poured the tea. "I've never been through it."

"And there is nothing to say it won't happen, Mrs Patmore," Mrs Hughes smiled slightly. "Thank you, you two. Truly. I've felt so lost this past day, and I'm still terrified, but I know what I need to do if I get the chance." The expression shifted to worry as she contemplated the fact that he might not make it. "I wish with every fibre of my being that he's going to be ok.

Mrs Patmore picked the plate up off of the tray and planted it into Mrs Hughes' lap. "I made this for you when you didn't come down for something to eat. It's one of your favourites."

Mrs Hughes stared at the plate, the thick white bread made it look like it was the size of one of the huge books upstairs, and she swallowed. It was huge, and she had to be honest, she didn't really have much of an appetite. "I'm sorry, Mrs Patmore. I don't think I could possibly eat that right now."

Mrs Patmore's face looked like she had been slapped, her face scrunching up as she stared at Mrs Hughes. "I made it 'specially."

Anna smiled and lifted one of the halves off of the plate and broke it into two. "We'll help you, Mrs Hughes. You eat that half, and I and Mrs Patmore will eat this half then."

Mrs Patmore side-eyed Anna. "I've eaten two big bowls of stew, I don't think I could-"

"I will if you will," Mrs Hughes said, lifting the sandwich from the plate, taking in the sheer size of it in her hands.

"Oh alright. At this rate I'll be rolling to bed," Mrs Patmore smirked, taking a deep breath before taking a bite from the corner.

"Thank you," Mrs Hughes said, putting the sandwich down. "For everything."

Anna and Mrs Patmore smiled at each other before eating their share of the bargain.

* * *

Mary stirred slowly, a realisation that there was a bright light shining on her eyes that provided discomfort and annoyance. The air around her was warm, and she felt the heavy pressure of blankets over her body that cocooned and compounded the heat in a comforting way. Removing her arm from the tightly tucked in sheet, she raised her hand to cover her face, blocking the intruding light source from her eyes. The relief from the light made her squint as she tried to open her eyes and focus on where she was, a niggling feeling that she wasn't in her bed and somewhere quite different. The unfamiliar push back from the mattress and sheets, and the firmness of the pillows felt alien to her. As she blinked repeatedly, her whole head and mind groggy and heavy, she felt a cool touch come up and encase her hand.

"Oh, my baby," came the light and warm American accent of her mother, another hand coming up to touch Mary on the side of her face. There was a slight peak in her voice that signalled a relief of some sort.

Mary felt the grogginess ease slightly, her mind beginning to sharpen as she began to wake properly. The air around her smelt strongly of the disinfectant type odour of the hospital, and this made her eyes jerk wide open as she realised just where she was. "What-"

"It's ok. You're ok. You're in the hospital." Cora said calmly, her hand tucking some of Mary's hair behind her ear.

Mary moved her head to the side, following the voice of her Mother, and looked squarely into the ocean blue depths of her eyes. What she saw was a clear reflection of relief that mirrored what her voice resonated. Mary moved her gaze to the rest of her Mother's face, and it bounced back a level of exhaustion that Mary could feel in her whole body. Feeling a little bewildered, Mary attempted to lift herself into a sitting position to try and compose herself and gather her thoughts.

"Don't move too much. We need to get Dr Clarkson to look at you," Cora pressed, keeping her hand firmly wrapped around Mary's hand like she was scared that if she let go then Mary would flee again.

Cora watched Mary's face carefully, watching as her daughter's eyes moved around the room. Relief had cascaded through her like a warm fluid at the fact that her daughter was now conscious, aware and moving. Dr Clarkson had said that he thought that she would be ok after doing some proper tests on her with equipment he had in the hospital. There were some superficial things, brought on by the cold which they were hoping would heal with no repercussions. The skin on her toes, nose and fingers were red and looked sore, but Dr Clarkson said that because they weren't pale or black that it was a good sign. There would potentially be some blisters that may arrive over the coming hours, as these could take anywhere up to 36 hours, but she was alive, she was awake, and Cora felt so happy about this that she wanted to cry. The question of why and what Mary's intentions had been weighed heavy in her mind, and she wanted to ask but couldn't just yet.

"Mama," Mary croaked, her throat dry and sore.

Cora picked up the glass of water from the side of the bed and handed it over to Mary, who struggled to grip it properly as she fumbled with her fingers. Mary could tell by looking at her mother that there was a bit of hesitation now in her eyes, and Mary knew that a part of her wanted to ask her something. Not wanting to broach that subject just yet, she sipped her water and stared off into the distance at a window. The weather outside almost looked inviting, the sun low and bright in the sky, a fluffy cloud moving slowly in the sky as the wind moved it on. An image of Matthew beaming back at her as he handed her a sandwich wrapped in paper moved into her mind, and she closed her eyes to try and push it away, the pain still very much present at the thought of her beloved.

Cora adjusted the shawl that she had around her shoulders and watched as Mary looked off into the distance. "We were so worried, Mary," her voice soft, trying not to sound like there was any animosity there. Cora was worried that if she sounded stern about Mary's actions, that it might make it harder to talk to her later in the day.

Mary closed her eyes and let out an almost inaudible sigh, not wanting to dwell on her actions or justify them when she knew that her Mama and Papa would never understand. How would Mary even put it into words in such a way that wouldn't hurt them? It was difficult to even think at that present moment in time, let alone formulate an intricate web of avoidance and white lies to save their feelings. What would they think if she told them flat out that she had done what she had done because she no longer had wished to live her life without the man she loved? She supposed they had all been through enough over the past day to not even think about it and just flatly not talk about it, perhaps saying she wasn't up to it just yet which wouldn't be a lie. "I'm sorry, Mama," Mary replied quietly, lifting the cup to her lips once more.

"Let's not talk about this now," Cora said chirpily, rising to her feet and releasing her daughter's hand. "I'm going to go and get Dr Clarkson so he can have a look at you."

Mary nodded blankly, looking at her Mama in a bit more detail as she stood at her side. There was a slight redness to her eyes, dark circles had formed below them and the pale tinge to her cheeks she always got when she was exhausted. Normally, her Mama's hair was tight and tidy, but Mary could see a bit of hair had fallen from their rightful places. It was clear that she hadn't been asleep all night, fraught with worry for her and her Papa. It was something else to feel guilty about.

What Mary hadn't wanted to let on was that she felt sick with worry at the fact that she had no idea what had happened to Carson. The image of his unconscious face had flashed up at her, and it had made her skin crawl at the fact that it had happened to him because of her own selfish actions. They were selfish because she hadn't thought about what the impact would be on anyone else. However, when you're so deep within yourself, treading water against your own feelings, it wasn't something that could be helped. Carson was going to be in this building somewhere, she knew, and now that her Mama had left the room Mary was going to find him. If she had openly said to her Mama she wanted to see him, she knew her mother would press and try and stop her. If something bad had happened she knew that her Mama would try and sugar coat it. There was so much she wanted to say to him, to let him know and apologise for with no other ears present. The idea that he was anything more than not ok was not something she could stomach, so she ignored that thought before pulling the blankets off of her warm body.

Ignoring any complaint that her body screamed at her when she moved, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and placed her feet on the cold floor so she could stand. Instinctively she dragged a thin blanket off of the bed and wrapped it around her body before walking out into the hall, eyeing it up and down until she got her sense of bearings. Over the years, although not much, she had been here, and she knew which way the men's ward was.

As she placed one foot in front of the other, she felt her stance and gait as she walked, and knew that it wasn't right, but she didn't care. Mary wanted to find Carson and she wanted to see if he was ok. The beating in her chest came back hard and fast, feeling it thud as she choked on the thought that Carson might not be ok. In the past few months, she had already lost the man of her dreams, her love and her belonging. It now dawned on her that she could lose another man in her life whom she feared she could never live without too. The man had been her support for as long as she could remember, and if he were, then it would all have been her fault.

Steering around the corner she walked into a big open room where beds lined the walls. This ward was not as grand as the one she was in, she noted, and although a passing and fleeting thought, it still bothered her. All of the beds in the ward were empty aside from one in the furthest corner of the room. When she focused she felt her heart jump, seeing Carson's face as pale as the sheets in which he was encompassed. The bruise was made up of purples and blues and looked so incredibly painful and bright in contrast to his skin. The expression on his face was not one of discomfort, but one of peace, his expression so flat and calm, like someone had gone over it with an iron. Normally when he was around the house he had an expression of concern and scrutiny, thin lines on his head as he looked out at everything, judging and thinking as he went. Now, he most certainly looked at peace.

Mary walked as quick as she could over to the bed and sat heavily into the chair that stood to the side. Lifting it quickly, she shuffled it closer to the bed so she could reach out and take his hand. When her fingers touched his skin she could feel how cool his hands were, so she wrapped her hand around the tips of his fingers. Guilt began its unruly journey through her body, starting in the pit of her stomach before cascading like ice in her veins to every limb. If she had just been stronger, if she had just tried harder then Carson wouldn't be where he was now. It was hard though, because it's all an afterthought and not something you could change, and she knew that when the grief had hold of her there was no logic behind her thoughts. The shock of waking in the hospital, and needing to find Carson had pushed it to the back of her mind, but it still lay there, taunting her and making her long for her darling husband.

"Carson," she whispered shyly, checking over her shoulder to see if anyone else had entered the room. "I beg you, my dear friend, stay strong and come back. We'll all be so very lost without you."

Looking down at her feet she sighed, tears forming in the corner of her eyes as she thought about what she'd done. Those feelings were very much still prominent within her, and they wouldn't be gone any time soon. What if Carson wasn't going to be ok? What if he died because he had so stubbornly risked himself to find and bring her home? Would she ever be able to live with herself? Or would it rest on her shoulders for all to see? The eyes of the servants would always judge her, probably hate her, and she knew that Edith would hold it over her for as long as she got enjoyment out of it. "Oh Carson," she sobbed, the tears rolling freely down her face. "If there was ever a time I would ask God of something, it would be now. I know I can never bring Matthew back, but if there were anything that could be done to stop you leaving us then I'd do it. Please," she begged sadly, squeezing his hand. "I am so sorry. There aren't many who have ever heard me say those words, but I am so very truly sorry. Please."


	14. Chapter 14

_**I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and New Year! Here is the next installment :) I hope you enjoy it :D **_

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The earpiece began to warm against Cora's ear as she listened to the relief in her husband's voice after telling him that Mary was awake. The way his voice had lifted from the post-sleep haze that gripped him had made her smile hard because she knew exactly what he was feeling, and she was glad that it would mean he would feel better in himself. Having been his wife for so long she knew the little tells of her husband, and she knew that he had blamed himself in a way for what had happened; it was what he did. The memory she had of Robert's face when he first laid eyes on Mary filled her brain, his cheeks sitting high as his mouth stretched as far up and open as it would allow. The way he spoke reminded her of that moment because she could hear the elation in his voice.

"I'm so relieved," he beamed, knowing that the biggest part was her consciousness as a tell for how she was. "I'm thrilled."

"Of course," Cora cooed, the smile planted firmly on her face. "How did you sleep?"

"In all honesty, my dear, it was a strange sleep. My body is craving for me to curl up in a ball like a bear and sleep through winter but my brain is a torrent of questions and worries. I think that this news will help me into the deepest sleep I've possibly ever experienced. How did she seem when she woke?" Robert's voice was still a bit raspy as he spoke.

Cora paused and thought back to Mary, her expression still a little distant and flat, but she had to remind herself that she had just awoken and been through a tough experience. "I'm not sure what I was expecting or what is normal, to be honest. I mean, she seems fine, a little withdrawn but she's just come back to us so is that how she should be? I don't know. I don't feel that I can leave her yet though, there's something still not sitting right with me and I want to make sure she's ok."

Robert didn't come back to her straight away and she could tell that he was thinking and processing. There was a light exhale down the line and she heard him clear his throat. "What is it?" he questioned.

"I want to ask her why, Robert. It's the big question, isn't it? Why did our daughter choose to act in the way she did? I'm so very glad she's ok, but now that she's with us I want to know why. Am I wrong?" Cora pressed, feeling a little foolish at asking the question as if she wasn't content with the fact that Mary was back, and wanting to get answers now.

"My darling, you are not. I feel the same, but let's not push her just yet. Let her get her bearings back, make sure that Dr Clarkson is happy and we can cross that bridge then." The line went quiet as they processed each other's words.

"I'm going to come over right away. I think that Mrs Hughes wanted to visit Carson so I'll see if she is awake. Is there much news on him at the moment?"

Cora sighed. "No, Robert. I can't believe the state of him. Do we know what happened?"

"No, I'm afraid not. There was a broken branch nearby so I can only assume that it was due to the storm. I'm glad that he's alive though, and I hope we can get him back on his feet too. Lord knows we need him around the house for a few more years to come."

"Of course. I wouldn't want the task of having to replace him after all these years." Cora let out a yawn and exhaled deeply. "I'll see you when you get here. I must get back."

"Of course. How are you, my darling? Robert queried, hearing the strain in her voice, knowing she was likely running on empty after the many hours of adrenaline-driven emotional turmoil. A lot of people had no doubt mocked him because he had chosen to take her as his wife, but it were times like these that he felt proud of her and glad he had made that decision.

"I'm fine, just feeling the tired now. The relief of her waking up has drained the energy from me. And before you ask, no, I'm going to stay a bit longer. So I'll see you soon." Cora said firmly, but playfully, knowing that it was going to no doubt be his next query.

"Yes," Robert hesitated, thinking about how best to reason with his wife so she could get some rest. "I could sit with her in a shift? At least then you can take some time to give yourself some energy back."

"I'll see," she said, smiling through the phone at him. "If anything, the hospital is full of beds if I need to take a lie down when you're here. It's not beneath me, Robert."

"I love you," he gushed, feeling so full of love and pride at how strong his wife had been. The strain after the loss of Sybil had affected them quite deeply, but they got through it, and the pair of them had struggled at the idea of potentially losing Mary. Robert had faltered a few times, it felt, but Cora seemed to run off an iron core. They always say that women were emotional and this was one of the reasons why they didn't fight in the war, or so he had heard, but it hadn't been the first time that the women around him had lead with such iron strength. There was deep stability to women that men could not do without, and it was time that the world understood this he felt. Robert supposed the girls got it from his mother and their mother and knew that they would one day be a force to be reckoned with once they had the estate in their hands. Edith may not be taking the helm like Mary, but she had her opinions and would make her contributions no matter how small.

"I love you too." Cora put the phone down and turned with a wry smile on her face. The whole situation that had passed had made her feel closer to her husband and that made her happy. The years hadn't been kind to them and they had been through many ups and downs, but in times like these when he showed his love for his children, and her, it made a warmth bubble in her that felt like it could feed her for eternity.

Doctor Clarkson walked around the corner and stopped to the side of Cora, he kept his gaze strong and calm. Cora liked him, because he was always so level headed and honest, and did what was right for them all. Nothing seemed too much trouble. They had had their disagreements in the past over things, but the man had a core of gold. "My Lady," he said pleasantly, placing his hands behind his back. There were a few things that he wanted to check with Mary, see how her vitals were performing and reflexes and see how she was within herself. "Shall we?"

The pair of them set off side by side, walking through the narrow corridor with their shoulders almost touching each other and the walls beside them, narrowly missing their shoulders as they walked. The silence was not awkward, and they both let their thoughts run through their head as the moments passed. Clarkson, thinking about Mary and her condition wondered to himself before turning his head to look at Cora. "How did she seem when she was awake?"

"Distant I suppose. I mean, she didn't seem to show any ill-effects from what happened, but she still seems so very unhappy." Cora's brows furrowed slightly and she gazed off into the distance where the window sat. "She'll be ok won't she?"

Dr Clarkson took a moment to ponder the meaning to Cora's question, fearing that there were two sides to the coin. "Physically, I think she'll be fine. I'll check her vitals and we can monitor her closely. Mentally? Those wounds can carry on healing for years. In the war, trauma could have life-altering changes to someone's mental state and capacity. Grief may not be the same as what they experience in the war, but we have all seen either first hand within ourselves or from people around us that people react differently. It'll take time, I suppose, but how much time I could not tell you. I have a friend who might be worth contacting if things don't get any better for her. I've not spoken to him in a while but I know that he specialised in a form of psychiatry that fits into this remit. I could contact him?"

Cora's face scrunched up. "Aren't they for people who are… insane?"

Dr Clarkson smiled. "No. The study of the brain and mind, why we are the way we are, why we act the way we act and all sorts of brain analytics are becoming quite an investigated area these days. They are saying there is so much more that we don't know about the brain. It's very interesting. I think that if we have to if we see no success, it might be worth a shot." Dr Clarkson paused and stopped walking, noticing that the ward was now in view. "May I say something?"

Cora locked eyes with him to gauge his reaction before speaking. "Of course."

"I think the grief took hold and made her do something that she would never normally do. I've known your daughter since she was small and she has always been the most head-strong person, even when she was a young child. I think we should keep her here for as long as both you, I and Mary allows it. At least then she's in a controlled environment where there is always someone around to help."

"At home, there is always someone to help. I'd feel much happier if she was with us at home." Cora felt a little disjointed at the idea of Mary being away from home for so long. It dawned on her though somewhat, that she had been at home for months and that hadn't helped her in her situation and could have made her do what she had done.

"There are a lot of memories there for her, it might do her some good to get herself together away from the constant reminder of Matthew." Dr Clarkson moved his hands back to the front of him. "We will do whatever it takes."

"I think that might be a good idea," a soft voice came from behind them, and they could see Isobel's eyes reflect a pang of pain as she locked eyes with Dr Clarkson. Silence sat between them for a few seconds before Isobel righted herself and smiled, pushing the obvious memory of her son to one side as best she could. "I thought it best to come and see if there was anything that I could do."

Dr Clarkson grimaced slightly, averting his gaze to a light fixture above them. Isobel Crawley was a warm and lovely woman, always wanting to help and to do what she can for the greater good of the people around her. When it came down to the way she was when it came to the hospital, it wound him up because her way was right, and that was simply the end of it.

"I've been ever so worried," Isobel said calmly, undoing the top button of her jacket as they stood still near the doorway to the ward. "I had thought about getting some rest, after being so restless all night, but I couldn't so I went out to have a walk and thought I would come here to see if there was anything I can do."

Dr Clarkson smiled vacantly. "There isn't much to be done at the moment. Mary is awake so I'm going to go and see how she is."

"Oh, what a relief," Isobel said happily. "Oh, that's great, isn't it? What about Carson?"

"Still no change," Dr Clarkson said. "The wound to his head has been stitched up and cleaned, so it's just a matter of time now I am hoping."

The three of them walked into the room, all expecting to see Mary sat quietly in her bed, awake and alert. When they got into the room, they saw an empty bed, the sheets folded over where she had flung them open to get up. The was a murmur of worry out of Cora's mouth as she turned herself to get a look of the room, her face crumpled with worry, her eyes wide as her brain kicked into its initial reasoning. Had Mary ran away again? The first chance she had? Had Cora been foolish to leave her alone, knowing that there was a chance she could do it?

Dr Clarkson kicked into gear right away. "You've only been out of the room for around 10 minutes maybe? She won't have gotten far. I'll quickly go outside and see if she's there."

Isobel placed her hand on Cora's arm. "I'll check the other floor. Cora, if you want to check this floor. We will find her."

Cora blinked, feeling a little dazed and sick to her stomach. The adrenaline had kicked in, but because she was feeling so exhausted it left her feeling peculiar. "Yes. Of course." Cora put her hands up to her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. "Right."

All three of them went their separate ways, their thoughts circling and zooming at the potential reason for Mary's absence. Mary had to be somewhere, and there were more people around now to hopefully notice if she had gotten out of the hospital.

Isobel walked into the first room, her eyes wandering to every bed, every corner and every conceivable place that a slender human such as Mary could hide. When she was confident that the room was empty of her being she moved onto the next, and the next. There was a room at the bottom of the corridor that she realised instantly would likely be the location of her daughter-in-law. The room at the bottom was the men's ward, she had spent lots of time in and out of there over the years and thought that perhaps that Mary hadn't purposefully gone anywhere but to see Carson. Feeling confident in her thought process, Isobel ignored the room in the middle of her position and the other room and walked towards it.

The hospital itself was quiet at the moment and so the distinct sniffling sound echoed enough for Isobel to hear as she walked towards the threshold of the room. Peeping her head around the corner she could make out the petite outline of Mary, who was sitting, her posture defeated, with her hands wrapped tightly around Carson's. Isobel knew of Mary and Carson's relationship from random conversations with Matthew, but it was always in passing and something she hadn't paid much attention to. Even then, Matthew only noted it as such and never went into much detail anyway. Isobel was not accustomed to the ways of the aristocratic lifestyle, and so when it came to their upbringing she had only seen what had been laid out for her grandson and little Sybbie. Isobel didn't need much help in her home anymore, but she supposed that having someone like Carson around from a young age would have some sort of influence on a child growing up in the big house. It was apparent, though, that the normal hierarchy had missed certain places in Downton with Mary and Carson being a prime example. It was warming to see though because there had been times that the stiffness to the family's lives had been difficult for her to swallow.

Isobel walked slowly up to the bed and knelt at Mary's side, not something she supposed anyone would expect of her. "Oh, my dear," she said softly. "We were worried when you weren't in your bed."

Mary looked up, startled by the voice in the room. "Oh, Cousin Isobel," she sniffed, trying to wipe the tears away from her eyes. "I just came to see Carson."

Fumbling for a handkerchief, Isobel pulled one out and handed it to Mary, smiling softly as she did. "He'll be ok, Mary."

Mary blinked, a tear spilling from her eyes and down her cheek. As it fell she bowed her head to try and hide its descent, her hands keeping Carson's hands tightly in hers. Mary gave it a few moments before letting go of his hands and pushing herself to her feet. "I best get back."

Isobel rose with her before blocking Mary's exit by standing in front of her. "There's no rush. I can tell Cora where you are. Please, stay with him if it helps."

Mary couldn't raise her eyes to meet Isobel so she nodded silently, hesitating as she did. The whole few days had been almost as hard as the moment she found out about Matthew. The amalgamation of feelings and emotions had intertwined into her core and made her feel as if she was spinning into a black hole. What she wanted was a relief, and it seemed the only way she was going to feel that was to know that Carson was going to be ok.

Isobel knelt back down again and took Mary's hand. "You'll be ok. Carson will be ok."

Mary nodded before exhaling hard, trying to keep herself together. "He has to be," she whispered.

Isobel touched a bracelet that she had on her wrist, a gift that Matthew had given her for her birthday a few years before. Since he had passed she had found herself touching and toying with it often, a warm reminder of his generosity and love. Isobel unclasped it and opened Mary's hand. "Take this."

Mary looked at Isobel with a puzzled expression on her face. "What is it?"

"Matthew gave me this for my birthday several years ago after my husband passed away. When he did he wrote me a note that he placed carefully in the box. Do you know what it said? It said, wear this bracelet as a sign of my love to you and know that one day the sun will shine again. Storm clouds don't last forever, and when they leave the sun seems at its brightest. Beautiful, wasn't it? I want you to have this dear because the sun will shine again as our Matthew promised. You will get through this. We both will get through this, for George and Matthew." Isobel's eyes glazed over with tears as she smiled at Mary.

"I can't take this from you. Matthew gifted it to you and I don't want to take that away. It's beautiful, and I thank you so very much, but Matthew wanted you to have it." Mary lifted it carefully and handed it over to Isobel.

"No, child. If you won't take it, then keep it until the sun shines for you once more. Allow it to be a reminder of Matthew's positive outlook. When you feel better, give it back to me." Isobel pushed her hand away and nodded.

Mary looked at it once it was close to her. "I fear if Carson doesn't make it, the sun will never shine." Mary paused and wrapped her hands around the bracelet and brought it up to her chest. "I don't think I could lose another too," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears once more. "I can't lose another."

Isobel stood herself up and put her arm tightly around Mary. "Carson is strong and stubborn, like you. Dr Clarkson and the staff here are going to do whatever they can."

Both women allowed themselves a moment before Isobel let Mary go. "Oh," she said quite dramatically. "I must let Cora know that you're ok. When you weren't in your bed they thought you had gone out again."

Mary grimaced. "I suppose that's just. After all, I have put everyone through."

"It's fine, dear. I'll go and let her know where you are. Shall I get them to come here?" Isobel began walking to the doorway.

"No. I'll follow in a moment," Mary said, putting the bracelet on carefully. "I'll just stay a moment longer."

Isobel nodded, watching as Mary traced her fingers over the jewels in the bracelet. Isobel had hoped that she had done something helpful like she always did, but she supposed that time would tell. Matthew was in their cores, so she knew just how awful Mary was feeling. It seemed right that they could find solace in something together, and although it was small, the bracelet was a reflection of something they both needed, and that was hope.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the delay in this one, I've been travelling a lot with work and don't take my personal laptop. I've also rewritten this chapter at least 2 times. I wanted some interaction between the 2 characters, but there were so many options, and I finally feel like it got to where I wanted it. I hope you enjoy it, let me know :)**

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The sun was setting rapidly in the distance as Mary stared aimlessly out of the window, her eyes focusing on the vast array of colours that filled the sky like patches on a quilt. The world was winding down for the evening, the colours deepening as the sun said its final goodbye from behind some wispy clouds that had crept in an hour or so before. It was time that Mary began to wind down for the evening herself, but there was a crippling electrical current shooting through her that meant she just couldn't relax. A part of her had tried to pinpoint what it was for the previous hour, wondering whether it was a form of restlessness that her body couldn't escape from. Although the months before she had spent relatively static, her mind and body drained of any semblance of energy, there seemed to be something that she could not quell. Rather than fighting the dire need to move whilst sitting in bed, she had resorted to what she was drawn to, and that was the world outside. Looking through the eyes of the house seemed to be some sort of solace to her, the beauty of nature, the constant that was time and the ever-changing landscape seemed to help her. It was a cathartic motion that seemed to be the trigger point to action, whether it be in thought or the body.

The day had passed slowly, with people coming and going and sending her good wishes. Not wanting to dampen their spirit and gesture, she had put up with it because she felt she owed it to them for putting them through the ghastly day before. When her Papa had arrived, the night and exhaustion still resting heavy on him, he had sat with her whilst her Mama went to refresh herself and repeatedly told her how happy he was that she was back with them. Mary had already picked that up by his expression, the relief mixed in his eyes with a fleck of worry; it was something she had also picked up her Mama's eyes. They still worried that she was going to do it again, and although Mary did not know what the future held, she knew that it was not a conversation she yet wanted to broach. There was an essence of shame and embarrassment that she had never really felt before about an action that she had completed; it was alien, having been a force to be reckoned with for some years and not often second-guessing herself.

With the sun almost gone, Mary could feel the temperature begin to creep down, sending a shiver up her spine, sending her mind back to the other night where she had fallen so far. The panic and deep-set grief still plagued her, troubled her and made her wish that there was something she could do to bring her darling Matthew back. It was a painstaking process, letting her mind wander through their memories, their moments alone, the time that she fell in love with him and the love after. There would be a longing, she could tell, to feel him against her, to have him look into her eyes or smile at her that would never fade. Never. That part of her was damaged and shattered into a pile of broken pieces that seemed to rest high in her chest. Now she was back into her head a bit more, focused on Carson, her life, and trying to do Matthew proud she was so very much aware of the hurdles she now had to face. It wasn't just going to be life as normal because there was so much that she had to defeat. Not only were there demons that lingered behind every breath and heartbeat, but the torrent of questions she knew she was going to have to answer, and the struggle to reintegrate herself into the normal running of the house. Over the previous months, she had taken a massive backseat, struggling to maintain her wellbeing, and had skimmed the surface of life so as she had just a hairs touch to the realm of normal. The moment she had taken herself away from that was the moment she fell into the pit of despair.

Matthew would have made sure she kept going, and that was what drove her now to move forward as best she could. What she had to be to George, her darling son, was much more than an aristocratic Mother. On top of that she had to also be his Father, the person that told him tales of Matthew, taught him and showed him the ways that Matthew had waited to eagerly to bestow upon his son. Mary was going to be Matthew in that sense, and she knew it was very much a wish that Matthew hadn't explicitly detailed. Mary knew Matthew well enough to know what he would want to show and teach his son. Tom had done so well without Sybil, and Mary hoped that the pair of them could be a part of what the other lacked.

The hours had passed slowly, and although her thoughts moved to Matthew, to herself, to George and the family, they always came back to her dear friend Carson. Although there had always been a love and respect for him, this had now quadrupled, making the guilt agonising. In the bed he lay silently, his face calm and expressionless in an almost masculine angelic-like way. The appreciation she had for how he had pulled her back to herself, whilst selflessly putting himself in danger and ultimately ending up in the state he was in now, was huge. Earlier in the day she had watched helplessly on from the side of his bed as Dr Clarkson had tried some basic tests, which as far as she had understood, helped to see if the brain stem was functioning at the most basic level. It seemed that if these tests failed, there was a chance that he would never wake up, and she had nearly physically been sick at the thought. Watching on, as Clarkson worked carefully, Mary had stood completely transfixed with his actions, keeping an eye on Carson like a hawk to make sure she could catch any minute reaction that Dr Clarkson could have missed. The basic test where he placed something to the back of Carson's throat to see if the gag reflex remained had her almost vomiting herself. The reflex was solid, and she had gone back to her room with a flame of hope sitting amongst nausea in her stomach. Dr Clarkson said that it was a positive sign, and potentially when the swelling subsided he would wake up as the pressure would be alleviated. All Mary could do was keep willing it so.

There was a thud in the distance that brought her back to herself and she turned to look at the room behind her. The darkness had set in now and the way the lights flickered sent shadows shooting in strange directions. Not too long ago, her Mama had kissed her goodbye and reluctantly headed back up to the house to change and have a solid meal, and now the room seemed strange without her mother's piercing blue eyes watching Mary's every move. It had surprised her that her Mama had been so eager to stay by her side, but she knew that it was massively linked to their family's previous loss of their darling Sybil. There was something that must have shook her Mama at the thought of her eldest daughter ending in a similar fate. There had been a few moments where she had felt her Mama hesitate in conversation, and Mary had instantly looked away hoping that her Mama wasn't going to ask the ever-important question. Thankfully, though, the hesitation became nothing more and Mary knew that it would happen but hoped later rather than sooner.

Again, Mary's mind turned back to Carson and she thought that it was a good time to go and see him again. There was a period in the evening where everything went quiet, with the nurses having finished their rounds and so the wards and corridors were empty enough to allow her some quiet time with him. Part of her worried that he was going to wake up on his own, and she felt that she owed him something for the resilience and determination he had shown in finding her, so it was another reason why she wanted to be with him. It was Carson's way, and it always had, to guide her through the darkness like had so many times over the years, and so she wanted to be something positive that he could wake up to. Carson was the constant in her life that she hadn't realised for many years that he was. There was nothing that he would not do for her, and like her Papa, he adored her and she very much adored him.

Mary pulled her dressing gown tight around her, securing it with the thin cord belt, and moved over to her bed so she could put something on her feet. The floors of the hospital, for the most part, were cold and unwelcoming, and her feet were the parts of her that had suffered the most from being outside in the cold. Taking in a deep breath, she set herself in a forward motion and made her way into the halls. The walk to his room was second nature now, and her feet instinctively guided her to her destination whilst her mind wandered. What if he was awake when she got there? What if he had been for some time? Those were the thoughts that went around in her head every time she walked towards his room, and the disappointment always hit her when she found him in the same pose as always.

As her feet got her closer to the room, the familiar silence was broken by a distinct sniffle that instantly pricked her interest. The sniffle echoed quite loudly down the corridor, with the hospital being so quiet in the evenings, there was nothing to absorb the sound and so it carried. Carefully and quietly Mary brought herself up to the doorway and peered around the corner, trying not to make any noise to disturb whomever it was. At first, she thought that another man had been placed in that room with Carson, and the sound of sadness was coming from a friend or relative. When she peered into the distance she could see a small hunched up figure clutching tightly at Carson's limp outstretched hand. The light was dim so Mary couldn't make out who it was, but she was intrigued. It had never dawned on her, if she was honest, that there would be someone else that cared for him enough to be affected by his current state; which was an awful thing to assume.

As Mary stood there, squinting to try and make out who the person was, two thoughts crossed her mind. What she wondered was whether she should go over and offer some sort of comfort to whoever it was? Or should she allow them their privacy? A deep inhalation from the person and the slight sob then indicated to Mary that it was a woman, and she felt her guilt rear up because she was causing this person their sadness. Feeling that she wanted to comfort them, to do what Carson couldn't, she walked quietly towards the bed.

As Mary walked down the room she could make out the distinct and tight hairdo of Mrs Hughes, who sat with her back to the door, but it was enough for Mary to know who it was. Feeling confused by what she was seeing before her she hesitated and slowed up her pace. Thinking about it, she supposed that there was a deeper underlying friendship between the two of them, having worked together for so long. There was a deep emotional connection to a lot of the servants that Mary had never understood, and she knew it flowed through the lower classes in a way that she had never experienced. They didn't have a lot, but they had each other, and often they would go out of their way for their own and give away their last penny if it meant they could help someone out. Perhaps their friendship came about by the fact that the pair of them are heads of the service within the home? Maybe Mrs Hughes had just arrived and she had been shocked by the state of him? As it was Mrs Hughes she now wondered if she should allow her the space she needed, the pair of them not seeing eye to eye over the years. What would Carson do? What would Matthew do? Nodding her head she knew instantly and so she carried on her slow walk.

"Is there anything I can do, Mrs Hughes?" Mary said softly, hearing the complete topsy-turvy words that came from her mouth as she did.

Mrs Hughes instinctively shot to her feet and turned so her body was facing Mary, her expression aghast with horror as she reacted to the words of one of her employers. "Oh, My Lady," she exclaimed, lowering her gaze and putting her hands together into a ball. "Forgive me. I'll get out of the way."

Mary put her hand up as Mrs Hughes tried to move towards the exit. "No. No. Please don't." Mary went to reach out and place her hand onto Mrs Hughes' shoulder but stopped when their eyes connected. The look of contempt and sadness hit Mary in the chest, and she knew instantly that Mrs Hughes held her accountable for Carson's current state. Mrs Hughes averted her gaze and stopped in her tracks without saying a word, leaving the floor for Mary to make a move.

Silence sat between them for a few agonising moments, Mary chewing on words in her head as she tried to break the tension that sat in the air like a thick fog. This was one of those situations, she knew now, where she was going to have to apologise for what she had done. Since she had been in the hospital she had thought about the various people she was going to have to apologise to, the words she would have to say, and none of those scenarios had included Mrs Hughes. There was a familiarity with many of the people in her life, whom she knew she could have an honest conversation with and not feel too much shame and uncomfortableness, but how do you talk to someone with whom you had never had any connection?

"Mrs Hughes, I have intruded on your own private time and hold no claim to this space. This is not our home, you are not working and you have every right to be here at this time. It is I that should apologise." Mary grimaced and looked down at her feet.

Mrs Hughes didn't look up right away, unsure of what to think or to say. All she felt inside of her was a wave of burning anger that sat under the surface. It had been unexpected, to say the least, to feel that hotness that was now heavily meshing with the worry and unhappiness at seeing Carson lying there in such a state. As she stood there, unsure of what to say and to feel, she felt her breathing catch firmly in her throat as she tried to keep herself in check. It was Mary's fault that Carson was this way, and that was something that she could not keep from her mind. As she kept her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, trying to keep her Scottish temper at bay, she noticed that Carson's hand was now lying limp at the side of the bed where she had dropped it as she stood up from her chair. Carefully, she moved to pick it up and place it gently back onto Carson's chest, her eyes filling with tears as she felt the sadness overtake every other emotion inside of her. Oh this man, how he made it all feel right for her.

Mary stood still, watching with a deep fascination as Mrs Hughes carefully put Carson's hand back onto his chest. The older woman tried to avert her gaze as she moved her position to where it had been, but Mary was astute enough to notice the woman's eyes fill with tears. The mantra in her head kept asking the question; what would Matthew do? What would Carson do? So Mary tried to be Matthew, the kind and considerate man who never wanted to do ill of anyone. Mary's hand reached out and touched Mrs Hughes' arm. "Are you ok, Mrs Hughes?"

Mrs Hughes shrugged the touch off, so utterly suffocated by the burning rage that ignited as soon as the touch hit. The family of the house didn't touch the help, they were not that way inclined in life, and so it took Mrs Hughes by surprise. Who did Lady Mary think she was? "Don't," Mrs Hughes said sharply, moving her arm clearly out of the way.

Mary swallowed and looked at Carson sadly. "It's my fault, I'm sorry."

Mrs Hughes, thinking that Mary was referencing the touch, shrugged her shoulders and placed her hands back together. It was making her feel impatient now because she wanted her space back, and her time with Carson. "It's fine. You were just trying to be kind, My Lady." And now, Mrs Hughes tried to get herself back into her role as head housekeeper, trying to keep herself from saying something she shouldn't.

"No, Mrs Hughes," Mary swallowed, moving over to where Carson lay and took his hand into hers. "This is my fault."

"Yes," Mrs Hughes said bitterly. "Yes, you're right about that." There was no hesitation as the words fell from her mouth, the restraint had started to evaporate under her exterior and she chewed on the inside of her lip as she looked down at the unconscious man. Lady Mary, the child that had enamoured Mr Carson for years, had manipulated and pulled him down on numerous occasions. If it wasn't for her, he would be back in the house, sitting strong at his desk or keeping the house in working order. It all made her angry, the way that she had been feeling over the past few days, the agony at the thought of losing him, the anxiousness when she didn't know what was going on was all down to her. The fact that she might never get to tell Mr Carson how she felt, how he could be ripped from her in the blink of an eye all because of this high and mighty woman.

Mary didn't recoil at the agreeance but instead tried to embrace it because she knew that it was deserved. Mary wanted to start as she meant to go on, and although she had been avoiding any conversation about what she had done, this felt like a good way to start, no matter how difficult. "May I say something, Mrs Hughes?"

Mrs Hughes peered curiously at Mary and nodded her head. The conversations and actions that were happening between them were not normal, and although it had infuriated her, she wanted to hear what she had to say at least. Was there remorse there? Had this whole experience done something to her and made her into a proper person?

"We are not friends. We do not know each other. We belong to the same house. At first, I thought that we didn't have anything in common but now I think that I am wrong about that."

Mrs Hughes didn't say anything back. Instead, she stood there, eyes locked on Mary as she tried to figure out where the conversation was going.

"We have shared the same home, walked the same halls for years and yet we do not talk, and we do not cross paths often. What I do know is that we both have this man in common. I do not know of the relationship that you have, and I see that I have never asked much about Carson's life to know about that, which is utterly appalling. I can see now, by how you hold yourself around me and how you are at this moment, that he is dear to you. I am not asking for pity, Mrs Hughes, and I'm not asking you to like me because I don't know you and your life to be able to say if you have experienced loss in your life. I'm not justifying my actions, I'm just trying to explain that I completely and utterly lost myself in the grief of my husband. You knew him, Mrs Hughes, he was so kind and so warm and it destroyed everything I was to myself and I feel it inside. That man is more than I could ever be, he had kindness in him that melted the coldest ice, as he did to my heart. Carson knows me, and has known me for many years, and did what he could in the stubborn way that we both know. I wish that this hadn't happened, and I wish that I could take it all back but I can't," Mary paused to wipe away the stray tear that slid down her face. "This is difficult for me, but I owe you some semblance of apology and gratitude, Mrs Hughes. You must be a good friend of Carson to be here and to be so moved by him so I need to give you the respect that you deserve. I'm so deeply and truly sorry for my actions, and personally want to apologise to you for what I have done because I see that this has personally impacted you. As I said, I don't know much about your relationship when I'm not around, and he is a good man that I trust, and so I trust his judgement in the fact that you are friends. I am truly and deeply sorry. It won't make it better, I know that, but all I can do is try and make it right."

Mrs Hughes still felt angry, but this took her by a complete surprise to hear such honest words from the one and only Lady Mary. Was this what Carson saw when she wasn't around? Was this the side that Carson adored? "Well," Mrs Hughes hesitated and took in a deep breath. "I appreciate your words, Lady Mary."

"I want you to be honest with me, Mrs Hughes. Please. I know you feel much more than appreciation of my words. I have clearly hurt you because I can tell by your eyes that I have. I may not know you, but I can read you and see it." Mary moved the collar of the dressing-gown closer to her neck to try and beat the cold away.

Mrs Hughes stood steadfast, unable to think about what words she could put forward. It was an open invitation to speak her mind, but it seemed like a trap because who in their right mind would openly tell her about their dislike, distrust and the anger that coursed inside? But then, this might be the only time she could do it. "Well, if one is being honest about such a thing, then yes, you have upset me, Lady Mary. Mr Carson may have placed himself in the situation of his own free will because we both know the sort of man that he is, but it should never have taken place in the first place. I feel for you, in one respect, because you have lost something so dear to you, but the actions were absent of any real thought for anyone else. I am angry for my selfish reasons, but I am also angry because yet again, Carson has been drawn into one of your messes."

Mary nodded, letting the words wash over her and then sink in. "And I agree, very much with that. I appreciate your honesty. I know it must be hard considering the position we are both in within our day to day lives. At this point, and heavens know my Grandmother would have a fit, we are both the same. We both love Carson and both want him better. It's my fault, and as I've said, I am so very sorry. I couldn't see over the grief, and this is where it has brought me."

Mrs Hughes, at the sound of the word love, felt her eyes grow wide. Did Mary know? Was it that obvious? Did she just mean as a friend? "Yes."

Mary noticed Mrs Hughes' reaction at the word love, and it left her wondering. Not wanting to bring it up, she smiled and turned on her foot to leave the room. They locked eyes once more, and they both felt no further words were needed. Mary left the room, feeling small and feeling an initial relief at having verbally dispelled her apologies to someone. It was not her family, and it was not Carson, but it was the start of her making it all right. Would Mrs Hughes and her ever be friends? She doubted it. Did they understand each other a bit more now? Certainly, and that was one step of many to be grateful for.

When she was clear of the room she held back just a moment, feeling a level of intrigue at Mrs Hughes' reaction, and intrigued by the relationship that she had never realised there was. Letting there be a small delay, she peered very carefully around the corner, hoping to see some sort of interaction and was greeted by something she was not expecting.

Mrs Hughes hadn't sat back down, but instead was leaning down towards Carson's face. Mary thought maybe she was going to tuck him in tighter, but then she witnessed Mrs Hughes lean down and kiss him on the cheek. Mary's eyes grew wide and she finally realised just how their relationship actually was. When Mrs Hughes started doing her jacket up she knew that Mrs Hughes, due to their conversation perhaps, was going to be leaving and so Mary quickly made her way back to her room. That was not what she was expecting, and the dislike and the anger to her, and the loyalty to Mr Carson now made perfect sense. Was the relationship between them a secret? Was it one-sided? Would Carson court someone, especially in Mrs Hughes's position, in secret? There were many questions in her head, but in a surprising way it made her feel an element of happiness for him. Someone loved him as he deserved, and whether he knew that or not, there was a chance for him to be happy. Carson, for all of the man that he was, deserved the world.


	16. Chapter 16

**This chapter is quite a long one and took me a while to get right. The next chapter should shed some light on the fate of Mr Carson. I hope you all enjoy and always appreciate feedback, whether good or bad :)**

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Mrs Patmore had noticed that there was a nervous buzz between the help, the never-ending and urgent jobs kept flooding in, the surprise tasks and tiredness that they all felt was much the topic of every conversation. The normally refined organisation and watchful eye of Mr Carsons were missed, even after a few days, but they were all trying as best they could to match that level of detail. Thomas had obviously started to create a power struggle, arguing and creating problems so that he could appear the great and mighty power solver. There had been numerous occasions when he had tried to undermine Mrs Hughes, who had cut him down as soon as he had opened his mouth. Mrs Hughes was the mother figure of the house, and as children did, they pushed against her with their unruly behaviour. Mrs Hughes had stood her ground admirably, and slowly but surely they had realised that they were not going to win. It was not a role that she was used to, but she had spent many hours with Mr Carson and she knew how to command the people beneath her. Normally, much of the stresses of the daily running of the house were lost on Mrs Patmore, who had a primary objective of keeping everyone fed, and she knew that it was something that she was good at. Today, however, she had caught the nerves and it did not sit right with her.

The meat cleaver sat cold against her hand as she lifted it from behind a pan she had placed onto the side. For a moment it looked like she was going to go to war with the large piece of fresh beef she had in her possession, her eyes fixated on a singular spot on its shiny surface and a slight smirk on her lips. A loud bang from behind her made her jump, and she swung herself around to glare menacingly at Daisy who had rather clumsily dropped a box onto the floor.

"Will you be bloody careful, Daisy! You tryin' to give me a bloody 'art attack or what?" Mrs Patmore yelled, her face scrunched up in anger as she tried to regain control over her rapidly beating heart. When her eyes caught Daisy, the satisfaction of the younger girls shocked expression was enough for her to turn her attention back to the meat. "I swear that bloody girl will be the death of me!"

Anna and Mr Bates had entered the kitchen mid-yell and stood smirking at the scene that lay before them. Daisy was now running nervously around the kitchen, side-glancing at Mrs Patmore with every noise she made as she tried to complete her tasks, nervous she was going to annoy the older cook some more. It was nice to smile after feeling so rushed and tired all day, their feet aching from the non-stop hustle and bustle that the house was providing without Mr Carson steering from the helm. Although Mr Carson rarely got involved himself, he was able to predict and plan at the drop of a hat. The house and the people in it had their own little nuances, and he was able to prepare and read a situation before it had even come to light. It was this familiarity and attention to detail that was missing, not the lack of skill from Mrs Hughes. All that they were doing was reacting to requests, rather than intuitively knowing that they were going to take place, and so it seemed to be much more frantic and pressurised than normal. "Are you ok, Mrs Patmore?" Anna said in an amused tone.

"I'm absolutely bloody dandy, me. I want to get this beef prepared for tomorrow before I start settlin' for the evenin'. Why does everything' feel like it's gone to pot now Mr Carson is not around, eh? I've got things comin' at me from every bloody direction you could think of!" Mrs Patmore exclaimed before glaring at Mr Bates as he chuckled lightly from the other side of the room. "Mrs Patmore, could you 'ave a look at the menus for the next week? Mrs Patmore, could you spare Daisy to come upstairs and help? Just lie me down and shoot me!" Mrs Patmore angrily raised the cleaver high above her head, and then smashed it down through the meat and into the chopping board into one ferocious sweep. There was a satisfied smirk on her face when she pulled hard to remove the cleaver from the wood beneath.

Anna scoffed heartily and shook her head. "Come now, Mrs Patmore, a lot of that is stuff you do anyway, and nothing above your normal remit. We're all rushed and feeling the pinch at the moment, but at least Mr Carson is still with us. We have managed with much worse, haven't we?" Anna paused to look around to see if Daisy had left, before hushing her voice to a whisper. "Mrs Hughes is trying, but we all know she's a bit distracted at the moment."

"Distracted is right. Every time I see her, she looks like she's staring off into another world. She seems so lost and distant," Mrs Bates whispered at a mirror volume to his wife.

Mrs Patmore's eyes grew wide as she tried to think of a way that she could try and swerve the conversation away from Mrs Hughes, not wanting to let on that there was anything more to the fact her friend had been acting strangely. If Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson were ever to be more than what they were then that was their own business. "Well, she's likely just feelin' the stress and pinch of not havin' Mr Carson around. She's capable, but she's probably exhausted like the rest of us."

Mr Bates nodded in agreeance, his eyes turning to look at Anna who gave him a gentle nod. "It's ok, Mrs Patmore. I know."

"What? You do?" Mrs Patmore stared pointedly and accusingly at Anna who smiled in retort. "Well, that was not your information to tell though was it, Anna?" she hissed before taking the cut piece of beef and placing it to one side.

Anna nervously looked at Bates who just shrugged his shoulders. Anna hadn't thought about it in that manner, as she had just wanted to help, and now she felt that pang of guilt in her chest. "I've sworn him to secrecy. I wanted a male's perspective on it, to see if there was anything that we could do to help, you know if Mr Carson gets better. It wasn't malicious and done out of gossip, Mrs Patmore. I just think that the pair of them need to see sense, and Mr Bates is a man, so wanted to know what he thought." Anna didn't have any cruel intentions for sure, and it was true, Mr Bates might be able to add something from the male persuasion that she may have missed.

"Anna?" A soft familiar voice came from behind them and was followed by the body of Lady Edith who walked hesitantly into the kitchen with a polite smile on her face. The letter was folded tightly in her hand, and she put it behind her back as she came into full view.

Mrs Patmore's face dropped, and she nervously knocked an onion to the floor, her face clearly showing the nerves, like it always did, when she was faced with one of the members of the house. "I'm sorry, My Lady."

Edith looked at Mrs Patmore with a confused expression before bending down and picking up the onion that had now rolled over to her foot. "Whatever for?"

Mrs Patmore froze and looked at Anna for some help, her mind trying to think of some words and justification for her apology. "W-well, you know," Mrs Patmore paused. "Well, actually, I'm not sure. I panicked."

Edith smirked and let out a light and hearty laugh before placing the onion onto the side where it had previously sat, trying not to make the situation any more awkward than it already was. "Please, Mrs Patmore, I'm here to see Anna. I'm not in the way am I?"

Anna kept the polite smile on her lips, her mind running through the most reasonable explanation for the visit, before moving towards Lady Edith. "No, we're fine. Did you need some help with anything?"

Edith side-eyed Bates, who teetered now on the edge of the kitchen entrance, his face had that professional stoic expression now planted firmly in place. It was a stark contrast to the smile he had spread on his face a few moments before, obviously caught up in something with these two women. Edith preferred it when he smiled, when they all smiled in fact. It made her feel a little uncomfortable sometimes, to bother them when they were downstairs, as this was more their realm. They were more their selves away from the family, and it felt a little intrusive even though it was her home. "I would just like to talk to Anna if that's ok?"

Bates stepped forward. "Would you like us to leave, Lady Edith?" he said calmly.

Anna shook her head. "Mrs Patmore wants to get this beef prepared for tomorrow. We could use Mrs Hughes' sitting room? She's on her way up to the hospital so she won't be around."

Mrs Patmore stood tentatively on her tiptoes, trying to figure out of she was going to have to rush out of the way, or if she was going to be left alone with the slab of beef as she had intended in the first place. "That's probably a good idea," she said hesitantly, letting go of the meat cleaver when she realised her knuckles had gone white from the grip she had on it. "It's more private there."

Edith just smiled in response, before nodding her head. "Perfect. Shall we?"

The pair of them walked in awkward silence as they headed towards Mrs Hughes' sitting room. Anna had been in the house for some time and had also spent quite a bit of time with Lady Edith, but their relationship was nowhere near on the level of familiarity as it was with Mary. Anna rarely found her voice when in conversation with the middle child, whereas with Lady Sybil and Lady Mary she felt at ease and certainly more sisterly. Anna wasn't much different in age to the Crawley sisters, but she did feel like an older sister to the eldest and had done with the youngest and it was nice. Anna saw Lady Edith cover herself from the chill. "We could go upstairs? It takes a long time to warm the rooms down here, especially as Mrs Hughes hasn't had her fire on for a while, she's been so busy."

"Oh, no. Don't be silly. I'll be fine."

When they both entered Mrs Hughes' pantry, Anna noticed that the room was a little distressed. There were bits of paper sprawled over her desk, a stack of Mr Carson's books on the floor, a thin cardigan draped over her armchair, and a half-eaten sandwich sat on the table. Anna quickly picked the cardigan up and hung it on the coat rack, and moved a few items to one side. It must look bad when the head Housekeeper wasn't able to keep her sitting room in immaculate condition, but Mrs Hughes had been very distracted. Not only had she had to pick up the slack from the absence of Mr Carson, but also she had spent most of her downtime at the hospital when she was able, and when not there she was getting as much rest as she could. Anna had come down one of the mornings previously to find Mrs Hughes slumped at her desk, an uneaten sandwich by her right hand and a pen in another. There were bits of paper where she had taken notes and written a jobs list to help her keep on top of things. Anna had been getting to the house an hour earlier every morning to get ahead of her normal tasks, and on that day she had draped a blanket over Mrs Hughes and left her sleep just a little while longer. As she had left she had closed the door and told whoever was floating around that Mrs Hughes was busy, but it was obvious when she had walked into the kitchen with her bleary-eyed expression that she had been asleep. Anna had asked her on a few occasions if she was ok, but the reply was always flat and empty. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she trudged on like a warrior, determined to keep the building in one piece, and also give Mr Carson as much of her attention as she was able. It didn't matter really that her room was a bit messy, because everything upstairs was as it should be. There were a few things that weren't to specification, as Mr Carson would say, but nobody had noticed. Anna hadn't wanted to press, given how thin Mrs Hughes had been stretched, but she kept a watchful eye on her whenever she could and made sure that she ate something. At breakfast, Anna would make sure that she ate at least one piece of toast in as subtle a fashion as she was able.

"Please forgive the slight mess, My Lady. It's all a bit topsy turvy still at the moment." Anna smiled thinly and made sure the door closed behind them. "Is everything ok, Lady Edith?"

Edith flattened the envelope out into her hand, thumbing the top, going over the written words in her mind and wondering what Anna would make of them. "Oh, yes, everything is fine," she said hesitantly before lifting the envelope so it was in Anna's line of sight. "I found this in Lady Mary's room. It's addressed to you."

Anna could see the envelope had been tampered with and raised her eyebrows in confusion as she took it from the other woman's hand. The writing on the front was very familiar, having seen it many times over the years; the delicate scrawl was Lady Mary's. "It's open, My Lady?" Instantly, Anna's mind exploded into an erratic line of thinking, wondering what could be written inside. Why would she write a letter? Was it a request? A confession?

Lady Edith felt little in regards to the fact that it was open, as in her mind she had opened it with the intentions of seeing if it would help find Mary, regardless of if that had been the actual truth. "Yes. I'm sorry. I found it when Mary was missing and I thought it might have held something important that would help find her. In all the worry and stress I forgot to pass it on until now."

Anna nodded, wondering if that had been the case, but chose not to follow through with any questioning. The envelope was one of the thick writing ones that Mary used from time to time, her delicate and precise writing tracked over the front. Anna moved toward the light, like a moth to a flame, and pulled the writing paper from beneath it, angling it in the best way she could so she could take it all in. It seemed strange that Lady Mary would write to her, and so it felt like she had to hold the paper with delicate hands, a little scared of the possibilities that were flowing through the dried ink at her fingertips.

Edith watched intently, observing the way Anna's eyes jerked from left to right, her eyes telling her reaction well before her face did. Edith had read the letter a few times and could tell instinctively each part that Anna got to, and it was somewhat fascinating. There was a realisation, fear, worry and shock all amalgamated into one solitary gaze. Edith was sure that her reaction had not been so animated.

"Oh, my," Anna faltered, letting her mind work through the words again, trying to get to grips with what they really meant. When she fully realised the true meaning and message in the words, she felt a deep penetrating sadness. Had Mary been that broken? Of course, she had, how had Anna not seen it? It was as clear as a summer's day. The writing was careful and purposeful, it hadn't been written in haste. The words on the page were written with deep and broken emotion, the thoughts and feelings carefully premeditated and with purpose. This was not decided on a whim. Anna should have been there and stopped it.

Edith had waited patiently for Anna to come up with some sort of response, but the maid's mouth just hung open and her eyes fixed onto a single spot on the paper. It was obvious that she was upset, which she supposed would be touching to Mary to know that Anna was so moved by her words. "It's rather selfish, isn't it?" Edith queried, trying to further gauge Anna's thoughts. "I mean, she was going to leave her parents, friends and her son."

Anna felt a pang of anger at the pit of her stomach as she returned her gaze to the younger woman before her. Mary had always said that Lady Edith had been bitter and filled with resentment of what Mary had, and it was in this moment that Anna could see it loud and clear. It was hard for her to hold her tongue, but knowing her place and knowing that there was likely more to the visit then just to give the letter, she kept her real feelings quiet. "Well, Lady Edith. I don't think it would be fair for me to pass comment on a situation I have never experienced."

Edith picked up on the slight tinge of anger in both Anna's words and her gaze but thought nothing more than that. What Edith wanted, was to find the other letters, and she knew that Anna would be able to find them. It felt like Edith should get one, and she wasn't sure if that's what she was after, or if she was just intrigued by the potentially comforting words were for other people. "The other letters, Anna, do you know where they are?"

That was it, Anna thought to herself, it wasn't out of concern or to deliver the letter to the correct addressee, but to see who the other letters were for and what they contained. Either that, or it was because Edith wanted to paint Mary in a certain light. "I'm not sure, to be honest. There are many places I could think of that she could be referring to." Anna was flat out lying, she knew exactly where they were but didn't want to give the game away. They were Mary's letters, and reading what she had in her hand, it should be Mary's decision on whether they should be given to their addressees or destroyed.

"Well, we could go and have a look now? I think we should give them back to Mary so she can do with them as she sees fit." Edith hadn't realised that this was going to be as straightforward as she had first thought, and that irritated her.

Anna knew that she was going to have to stand firm, and remain oblivious. If Mary had not been found, then Anna could understand why it would be so pressing to find the letters, but given the fact that she was alive and well, Mary could find them and sort them herself. "It's late, My Lady, and I need to think about all of the possible places."

Edith kept her eyes fixed on Anna's to see if she would falter, but she never did, and so she couldn't decide if she was telling the truth. "It's quite important, Anna."

The door to the room opened quickly, and Mrs Hughes came in, her face pale and vacant until she realised that two people were standing in the room. Confused, she took a step back and hesitated. "Oh, Lady Edith. I apologise, I just came to grab something. I need to make sure that everything is ready for the morning before I go up to the hospital."

Anna's eyes were wide, and she looked out to Mrs Hughes to plea with her for some help. Normally Mrs Hughes was able to read these situations well, but given how tired she was she could easily miss it. However, when Mrs Hughes locked eyes with Anna she could see it straight away and so she pushed the door closed and moved towards them. In the maid's hand was a letter, and Mrs Hughes had caught Lady Edith glancing at it before looking away. "Is everything ok?" Mrs Hughes said cautiously.

"Lady Edith was just asking for my help, Mrs Hughes." Anna kept her eyes fixed on Mrs Hughes, hoping that she could get out of this situation somehow.

"Oh," Mrs Hughes said in a faked annoyed voice. "Well, I've sent all of the maid's to bed and I was going to ask Anna to come and give me a hand. I need someone confident and who will get the job quickly, and as it's so late, we need to make sure everything is ready for tomorrow. Is it urgent, Lady Edith?"

Lady Edith could easily demand that Anna help her, but she knew that that particular behaviour may not get her the results she wished for, but she had to try. "Well, it won't take too long."

"What was it you needed help with, Mrs Hughes?" Anna folded the envelope gently and placed it between her hands.

"Well, we need to set up the room for breakfast, get all of the shutters closed, set the doors up for the night. I need you to help me write up a list of any aged jobs you've noticed so we can get that done tomorrow." Mrs Hughes was tired, and actually just wanted to get to the hospital, so the annoyance and strain in her voice were not put on anymore.

"Well, it's fine," Lady Edith said flatly. "I suppose I can pick this up with Anna tomorrow."

"It'll give me time to think, My Lady. As I said, there are quite a few places she has referred to before if I'm honest. There are likely many more. The house is rather large and it might not be as straight forward as we think." Anna tried to hold a smile as she spoke, keeping her face as genuine as she could. What she didn't want to do was let on to the fact that there was only one place, and she wanted to keep that a secret. Anna knew if she had to go on a wild goose chase around the house with Lady Edith in tow, she would do just that until she could get them and talk to Lady Mary.

Lady Edith gave both of the women a blank gaze before retreating to the door. "Right, well ok. Tomorrow then. Don't let me keep you from your work."

Anna and Mrs Hughes waited patiently for Lady Edith to climb the stairs before the door was closed. Mrs Hughes sighed and pulled her cardigan from the rack. "Whatever is the matter?"

Anna still felt annoyed and shocked, the letter in her hand making her feel a whirlwind of individual emotions. It made her ultimately feel sad that Lady Mary couldn't talk to her about this, and sad because she hadn't been able to help her and prevent her from doing what was so clearly an act of desperation. "This letter is from Lady Mary to me. It refers to some other letters that she placed somewhere safe for me to find. Lady Edith wants me to get them and give them to her so she can read them, shame Lady Mary or I don't know what. They're not mine to give out in this situation. Lady Edith has already opened and read mine, which is more than she should have done in the first place."

Mrs Hughes had no mental capacity to try and follow this storyline, her mind flitting to the time and to the fact she wanted to get going. It all seemed a bit far-fetched if she was honest. A part of her wanted to ask what the letter said to get Anna in such a mess, but at the same time, she knew that potentially it would make her angry and so she chose to ignore it. "Right, well, it might be worth talking to Lady Mary about that before Lady Edith pulls rank and drags it out of you. We all know she will if she has to."

Anna nodded, and tucked the letter into the small pocket in her outfit, she was going to read that again before bed she knew it. There were so many questions she had, so many angles she could take the words if she tried, but she knew that ultimately the letter was a form of goodbye. "Yes. Thank you, Mrs Hughes."

"Yes. Well, I don't have a lot of time. I need to get going." Mrs Hughes wrapped the cardigan around her body tightly before reaching for her coat. The weather was still very cold at night, and although she had been allowed the use of the car, she knew the air could still bite.

"Mrs Hughes, please look after yourself. You don't at all look well."

Mrs Hughes kept her gaze away from Anna, and pulled her jacket on, trying to get the buttons done up quickly so she could get out of there and away from Anna's evaluating eye. "I'm fine. I'm alive. I'll be ok."

"You haven't stopped to give yourself five minutes of rest. This sort of behaviour is fine in the short term, but we don't know when Mr Carson will be back, and so you need to treat it like a marathon and not a sprint. I'll get Mrs Patmore to make you some food to take with you, but can I please suggest you give yourself a night off to get some proper sleep. You look like you're going to fall over at any minute." Anna moved a little closer to Mrs Hughes who had raised her head in exasperation. "I mean it, you need to look after yourself."

"I feel guilty enough leaving him there on his own all day. I couldn't bear it if I didn't go there and he woke up alone in the dark. I can do this, Anna. I can." Mrs Hughes could feel herself begin to falter, that strained feeling she got in her throat before she was going to cry. It was hard, she was exhausted, but she knew that she had a purpose in all this now. It terrified her enough that he might not wake up, and so each minute not spent with him was agonising.

"It's not just me though, Mrs Hughes. People are noticing. Falling asleep at your desk, you're hardly touching your food. I know it's just a house and just a job and that in the grander scheme of things it doesn't matter, I just don't want you to burn out. I don't want anyone to say a bad word against you. You're getting, what, no more than 2 hours asleep a night? You're not eating enough, and you're doing two people's jobs. I get it, there's a lot to do, but let us help, I don't mind. I'd rather feel the pinch and know that you're giving yourself a bit of time than see you burn away into nothing. I don't want you taking a turn and then we lose both of you." Anna stood firm in her spot, her hand now resting on Mrs Hughes' arm, the frustration and care she felt towards the older woman was stirring strongly within her. At the end of the day though, she knew that there was only so much she could say or do to try and persuade her. Mrs Hughes had her battle and was going about it in the way she felt she could.

"Please, Anna. I don't want to fight about this," Mrs Hughes mumbled defeatedly, sighing and hanging her head.

There was a small mirror on the table that normally resided upstairs, but Anna had noticed it and picked it up before lifting it in front of Mrs Hughes' face. "Look at yourself, Mrs Hughes. Just have a look."

Mrs Hughes looked over the top of it at first, determined not to look at the truth reflecting at her. It wasn't until Anna shoved the mirror up higher, that her eyes focused on the stranger staring back at her. Mrs Hughes had, for many years, been able to sort herself out without a mirror, and so she had avoided her reflection as she had tried to tread water. When she finally locked onto her face, she saw what Anna saw, and it was a frightful sight. Stray hairs were sitting on her temples where they had come free from her normally tight hairdo. The skin on her face was at least three shades lighter, the colour drained along with her energy. Beneath her eyes were now puffed up dark circles, and her eyes were bloodshot. It was true, she looked a mess, but no matter what she knew she couldn't face not being there, because it scared her to take her foot off the accelerator. "I know, Anna, I know, but what else can I do? I don't want to leave him."

"Mrs Hughes," Anna begged, taking her hands. "You leave him every day to come and graft from dawn until dusk. You can't be there all of the time and you know that. I just want you to get yourself a little bit of rest. Can you imagine what he would say if he saw how you looked now? He would tell you with as much force as he could muster, to get yourself to bed. Do you want him to wake, with you by his side, all fizzled out and exhausted?"

"Well no b-"

"But nothing. I know you are going to go there, and I know you feel like you need to be there, so tonight just come back a few hours early and go to bed. In the morning I'll start getting the house ready. I've worked here long enough to know what needs to be done-"

"No, it's not right, I-"

"They'll all be in bed. The only people up will be Mrs Patmore, Daisy and the maids. I can handle it. Then, get up just in time to be down here for breakfast, feeling a little more human and having taken care of _you_ for a few extra hours. It will do you the world of good." Anna tried to smile at her, but she could see that Mrs Hughes looked panicked. "I won't let you down. I promise."

Mrs Hughes felt like she could sleep for a week, her mind and body creaking and juddering through each hour like an old a broken carriage. If she would normally have to be here anyway, it would be the same as if she was working, but just taking a few hours to sleep. It made sense, she supposed, and so she nodded. "Fine. Ok."

Anna liked it when she was able to make people see sense, and so she opened the door to the sitting room and began walking out to the kitchen. "I'll get you something to take with you. You hardly touched your dinner earlier."

Mrs Hughes let out an almighty sigh. There were many amazing qualities about that woman that some people let slip by, she was kind, moral and resourceful and also very good at reading people. Ultimately though, what was at the forefront of every breath and thought, was Carson, and she hoped with all her might that he would be ok for more reasons than just the running of the house. The more the days went on, the bleaker the outcome seemed to be, and she wasn't ready to face that just yet. As each hour passed without him, the more the aching in her chest seemed to increase. _Please, Charlie, Please_.

* * *

Robert liked to think that he was a simple man. Yes, he was gifted with the life of a Lord where he could have almost anything he wanted, go anywhere he liked and had minimal limitations in the depth and breadth of his large world. However, as he sat silently, contemplating his life and the things in which he had in it, it dawned on him how complicated his life seemed at times. There were things in his world he wished he could take away, and things he wished were simpler. As a figurehead of the old world, his strength and leadership commanding respect and exuding dignity, he looked on at the people who were less fortunate than him with a tinge of envy. Robert was clear, he wouldn't want to change his life for the world, but it didn't stop him wondering how life would be if he lived like someone on a regular level. Was regular even the word? Less fortunate, is more what he meant.

If Robert thought about what he might have had if he was born into a family who lived a meagre life, a life where money and land were not on the forefront of life, it would be different, but definitely simpler. In his head, he envisioned a small cottage, like the ones on the estate, a loving wife, a few children and a garden. It would be normal for him to go off to work, graft hard, earn a wage and come home to a warm home. As soon as he walked out of his work, his workday would be over and he could spend time with his family. It wasn't massively different to what he had now, but the stresses of running an estate were never over, they never fully evaporated from his mind and there were things he had missed out on or hadn't noticed because the cogs in his mind were constantly turning. There was a permanent tension that sat across his shoulders like an anvil, penetrating his muscles with a deep and cold heaviness. If his daughter had been in a similar situation in another world, he might have noticed her direction or thought about it above the running of the estate as he had.

The chair Robert sat on was old, having been in the family for years, but it still provided him with some sort of support for his tired body. Demons manifested themselves internally, and thinking over things constantly could lead you down a deep and dark path; Mary's downfall he knew. There was a dull ache that spread through his being like a toxin, leaving him feeling dishevelled and low, leaving him flat and unable to bounce back up. Exhaustion could manifest itself in a physical, emotional and mental way and Robert knew that it was likely an amalgamation of everything that must have created his current state. It hadn't been long since Bates had dressed him and left him to his own devices, but the clock started to chime and he realised it had been much longer than he had thought. Time was moving in mysterious ways these days, and he couldn't even tell you what the day of the week was. The coring exhaustion sat deep within his bones, his muscles and even his mind was stubborn like his Mama in a debate. The lead jacket that kept him in his place had no letup, and so just for a moment, he let himself lean heavily into the stiff old cushion behind him.

Cora was going to stay home this evening, and he looked forward to being able to sit in bed with her and feel her warmth against him as she gave him that familiar solace. It amazed him how her strength could shine through in the darkest of days, how she drove herself forward without a second thought or grumble, but he was glad that she was going to be here to have her downtime that evening. In the months before, when Mary began her downward spiral, Cora had sobbed into his shoulder in bed as she worried painfully about their daughter. It was Robert that said that she would be fine over time, and not to put too much on her or disturb her. It was Robert that was in the wrong as a mother's intuition was far more tuned than his.

The clicking of the door behind him made him snap out of his inner thoughts and turn his head slightly to watch as Cora walked up behind him. As he looked he knew she was giving him that piercing blue gaze, sizing up his posture and his face before saying anything. Cora was perceptive; she watched and took a lot of information in before talking, although sometimes the American bluntness took over.

"Darling," she whispered warmly, her hand resting on the back of his neck as she moved to the front of him. "You look beat."

Robert shifted his gaze to hers, watching as she peered down at him with a concerned look. "I certainly feel it, and then some. I can't believe how much it has taken out of me. I shouldn't complain, you've been through the worst of it too with very little reprieve," Robert grumbled, his hand reaching out to take hers. On impulse, Robert tugged gently and gave his wife a puppy-dog look before pulling her into his lap. As she sat, her body side-on against his chest, he let out a sigh; his body thankful for the pressure on his aching bones. The heat that emanated from her body soothed him like a hot water bottle so he leant into her and rested his face against her arm.

Cora raised her eyebrows, her husband's actions surprising her, but thankful for the contact between them. If she thought about it, she hadn't lied at all, she had just avoided the truth about how exhausted she felt. The days had felt long, an aching worry sitting in her chest like barbed wire wrapped tightly around her heart. Now that Mary was awake and seemingly ok, it had eased slightly and so she had decided to spend an evening at home. What she was looking forward to was being in her bed, with her husband and in a warm and cosy environment. As she looked into Robert's eyes she could see how defeated he was and so she brought her hand up to his cheek and gave it a rub. Their relationship had been through the mill over the years, and although they had always kept most of their physical affection behind closed doors, they hadn't been this close for some time. Robert had always been rigid, and her American ways as he had called them, had taken some time for him to accept and ultimately appreciate. The English aristocratic lifestyle had left her feeling cold, but she had been able to win him over, their time alone had become more enjoyable and warm. "Are you ok, Robert?"

Robert's initial reply sounded like a grunt, and he raised his arms and wrapped them tightly around her waist, drawing her body as close to him as he could muster. The angle she had against him meant her hip sat against his stomach, and his head was the right height to lean against her shoulder, so he did just that. "I will be," he mumbled, taking in a deep breath and sighing so heavily it seemed to drag on for an age. "I just can't shake this tiredness and chill. I feel as if my bones are ice and my body is covered in lead."

Cora could feel the tension in his body, thick and heavy as he leant his head against the outside of her upper arm. Robert wasn't a young man anymore and severe exhaustion meant he couldn't bounce back like he had been able to years before. Admiration was what she felt because he had gone out of his way, with everything that he had and made sure that he brought Mary home. As Cora leant into Robert, she lifted her arm up and away from his face and hooked it around his head so she cradled it in her arm. There was a fine stubble on his face, which she rarely felt, and so she let her thumb run up and down his cheek. "Shall we get you into bed?"

Robert's head shook in her arm. "Let me enjoy this for a few moments more. Having you home and here is very therapeutic for my aching body. You have no idea." As he let his body fill with warmth from her he loosened his grip on her waist and brought his left hand onto her upper thigh. "How are you doing, honestly?"

Cora took a moment to align her thoughts and take stock of what was going on in her head. Everything had felt like a whirlwind, it wasn't a lie, and so she had let the wind take her and direct her without much thought about just how tired she felt. There was still a niggling feeling within her that she couldn't shake, a worry for her daughter that bit at the back of every thought and feeling. Could she have done more to prevent this? What had she missed to let it go this far? "I think I'm ok. I do feel like I haven't slept in an age, and it makes me feel sick to know that our daughter has done this. Did we do wrong by her, Robert? Is it our fault that we let her carry on in the way that she did for so long?"

"Oh behave, Cora. You saw and felt it long before the rest of us. Do you not remember how upset you got that evening? How I told you that she would be ok if we just let her take her own course? I should have listened to you. Please don't feel guilty, I beg you because I feel that it's partly my fault." Robert shook his head and sighed, leaning further into her cradling arm, seeking comfort from her.

"If you're partly to fault, then so am I," she said lightly, trying to ease his worries.

"Mary will be ok, won't she?" Robert mumbled sadly. "What did Dr Clarkson say about her and Carson?"

Cora lifted her head and stared into the distance, composing her thoughts and thinking about how to reply. It was obvious that Robert was beating himself up about it, so she contemplated the words that Dr Clarkson said, but knew she couldn't sugar coat it. "Carson hasn't had much of a change, but he's trying to be positive. Physically Mary's going to be fine. It's the effect of the grief that's going to have lasting issues. Dr Clarkson has a friend who specialises in psychiatry that he said we could contact if she doesn't get any better. I'm hoping it won't come to that because it makes me feel a bit nervous about sending her to one of those people." Cora carried on rubbing his cheek.

"What's worse, my darling? Having her see someone that could help? Or have her end up in this situation again? Not in control of her actions and ending up in a state. If Dr Clarkson thinks it's a good idea then we should try it, regardless of what people think, we think or what she wants to do. It's not a game and we came close to it all being over for her. I couldn't stomach it if it happened. I couldn't lose another."

Cora, hearing his words, contorted her body so she could wrap both of her arms around him, pulling him into an awkward side embrace. "No. Me neither. Oh, come now; let's not talk about this, darling. I've had enough of all this deep and penetrating unhappiness. Let's get into bed and get us some rest. We can face this together tomorrow; hopefully feeling rejuvenated and take stock of the situation. Maybe we could talk to Mary tomorrow?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure. You're right though, let's get some rest. I've missed having you by my side."

Cora smiled softly, tracing her fingers down and around his face. "I love you."

"Not as much as I love you," Robert smiled, leaning up to give her a quick kiss before she got up off of his lap.

Cora led him by the hand, his feet dragging haphazardly on the floor as he moved heavily towards the bed. Gently, she tugged the covers back and waited patiently for him to get into bed, smirking as she looked at his wide-eyed expression as she pointed to the space she wanted him to get in. "Putting me to bed?"

"Get in," she demanded playfully. "You'll thank me in the morning."

Robert raised his tired legs and climbed under the sheets before pulling the covers up and over his body. Watching as Cora walked around the other side of the bed, he shuffled himself down so his head rested heavily into the fluffed up pillows, subconsciously sighing as he did. The covers and mattress offered instant relief and he closed his eyes as he let it all overcome him. The bed dipped to his side and he opened himself up to Cora, leaning his arm outwards so she could lie against him. "I've missed this," he said truthfully, feeling her lean in and rest her head on his shoulder. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her so he could pull her as close in as he could, and he smiled as she rested her hand on his chest.

Cora smiled contently up at Robert's peaceful face, his eyes closed tightly and his lips slightly ajar as he took in some sleepy breaths. Cora shuffled her body upwards slightly, so the bottom of his chin was right above her head and she lifted her head so she could give him a gentle kiss before nestling herself in. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Robert replied in a slur, the heaviness of the impending sleep filling his words. The familiar and rhythmic breaths of his pre-sleep haze were upon him, and Cora knew it wouldn't be long until he was fully asleep, the years making his sleep patterns second nature.

Cora lay there for a short time, waiting patiently for the drawn-out breaths that accompanied his sleep, and the snore he got when he was really tired. Once he was asleep she was going to let herself drift off too, feeling the sleep lingering behind her eyes as she lay there. It was comforting, the way her head rose and fell against his chest as he breathed, the air from his mouth passing over her. The covers were warm against her skin, and her feet sought out his beneath the covers. It was always strange how her feet always felt cool unless they were tucked in against his, intertwined gently. It always felt better when she rested her knee so that it sat over his thigh, keeping as much of her touching his body as she could. It was familiar, it was warm, it was loving and it was home. There was still that niggling feeling in her stomach, and she knew that there was still so much that she needed to tackle, that they needed to tackle, but for this peaceful and intimate moment with her husband, she just wanted to be. They were one, a whole, and although they battled and had their differences, in the end, they needed each other and were right for each other, no matter what anyone else thought. Cora loved Robert and Robert loved Cora, and aside from their children, he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, even if it had taken her time to see.


	17. Chapter 17

**:D Number 17! I'm actually shocked that this story has manifested itself into something so lengthy! I've enjoyed it though, and don't worry, there's still more to come! Thanks again for all the people who have taken the time to comment and give me their feedback, it's helped massively. **

* * *

Anna held the stack of letters in her hand, feeling the fine silk bow wrapped around the outside that had kept them in a neatly piled heap. Although the bow was soft, it was almost razor-like in the way that it kept all this pain and heartache encased within its delicate finery; a juxtaposition of the upmost refined. Holding on to these seemed like she had Lady Mary's world at her fingertips, the heartache and pain right there in her hand for all to read. What she had done was carefully peer between each one to see who they were addressed to and read the names out of intrigue over anything else. There was one for each of Mary's parents, Mrs Crawley, the Dowager, Tom, Carson and finally, a thick one addressed to George. Something about seeing the young boys name on what would likely be another goodbye letter made her emotional. How does someone write down in words a final goodbye for a son who would be left with neither parent? Anna knew that it wasn't Mary's fault that she had been so detached, and the words alone in her own letter were enough to stir up a tear, but something like that would make her cry for a solid hour. It had left her feeling off all day, a low feeling in her chest because it was so painful and poignant. At one point she had walked up to Mr Bates and had him hold her for a few moments, his mouth giving her a soft kiss on the top of the head as he did. There were no questions and no answers, just a loving embrace for when she needed it. Mr Bates was observant and had a habit of sensing she was off well before she could even fathom it herself.

As Anna had been so busy, she had managed to avoid Edith much to her delight. There had been a sense of dread hidden at the pit of her stomach all morning, every creak or feminine voice making her instantly think that it was Lady Edith, out on her quest for information. A part of her was worried about what would happen if Edith found out about Anna having the letters and then handing them over to Mary without giving them to her first. It was the right thing to do though, and that was the main thing. As the house was manic, it was easy enough to get lost in the day to day running of the house, using the servant's stairs, taking on the chores the furthest away from where Edith usually gravitated. It had surprised her that Edith hadn't pressed and called for her by name, but maybe she had but the message had been lost in all the hustle and bustle.

That morning Anna had got up early and had walked up to the house, the air bitter and the wind swirling around her with such force that she had to redo her hair once she got to there. Mr Bates had walked alongside her, his body shielding her from as much of the wind as he could. What she had said was she preferred for him to stay at home and in bed to get some rest, but he wouldn't have that and would rather get started on his work before settling for breakfast. Once Anna had hung up her coat and hat and kissed her husband, she had gone up to the bedrooms upstairs and popped her head into Mrs Hughes' room. Anna was pleased when she saw that Mrs Hughes was all tucked up in bed, whether she had been there for half an hour or two hours, it was going to mean she had had more solid sleep than she had done in days. The older woman looked pensive, even in sleep, and Anna hoped that this would all end soon so things could get back to normal.

Anna enjoyed the house, she had to admit, when there was nobody else there to bother her. It was when it was quiet that she was the most productive and could keep her thoughts without someone barging in or asking her to do something. The thoughts that went through her mind weren't the best given the situation, thoughts of Mrs Hughes, Lady Mary, Mr Carson and a pang of sadness seemed to lace every notion and moment. They would get through this, she knew, no matter what happened they would keep things moving because it's what they were trained to do. Not only that, but the people of this home, whether upstairs or downstairs, were one of the most resilient bunch of people that she had ever met. Over the years she had come across many different types of family, including the help, and there never seemed to be that strong and resounding core strength that she felt within her family. That strength had been a slight undercurrent when she had started all those years before, but then things happened and things came at them, and that core strength manifested itself into the iron fist that it was today. Lord Grantham, although strict and sometimes a little cold, was one of the warmest Lords she had ever known, and she knew his heart was in the right place. Lady Grantham, the outsider from the offset, was one of the softest and kindest women she had ever met, but enormously protective of all those under her reign. Then there was her own Lady Mary, who was stern and cold to the people that did not know her, but again, she was almost a mixture of her Mother, Father with a hint of the old Dowager, harsh but mostly fair. Lady Mary was so much more when you peeled back that outer layer that she had refined over the years to keep people at arm's length until Matthew had melted it away. Mr Carson, the heart and core of the entire house, running things, although a little old fashioned, to clockwork in an intricate and precise manner. Anna had seen the moments when he had worn his heart on his sleeve, and she knew that he was a good man, one of the good ones. Mrs Hughes, the stern Scottish woman, who kept them all running in an orderly fashion but offered the solace in times of need, she was the Mother figure and the warm beating heart of the household. Mrs Patmore was like the old aunt, pushing against the dawning future with a wooden spoon at the ready. They were all wonderful and magnificent people, even Thomas had kindness in there somewhere.

The secret spot that Mary had spoken of in her letter was actually in Anna's old room. There was a loose floorboard in the corner that she had used for her things and Mary in the past. It would be obvious for Mary to hide things in her bedroom, and so she had never felt that it would be safe enough. Whilst Anna was still in the house, they knew that nobody would find it there. The room remained without an occupant, and so it was an easy place to get to that nobody would ever know about. The plan was, if Edith asked, was to take her through several places she had thought about and claim that the letters weren't there. How could Edith prove that she was lying if she didn't know the exact place they were located?

Once Anna had the letters, she placed them behind a book in Mr Carson's pantry because it wasn't in use. The staff had respected the room, the only person that would go in there was Mrs Hughes, and that was when she needed to get a book or something from a cupboard. Due to this, it was the perfect place to keep them. After that, she walked around the house, opened shutters, made sure that the house was ready as best she could. When she finally made her way back down to the kitchen, Mrs Patmore was in full swing, with Daisy helping as usual.

At breakfast Anna was happy to see that Mrs Hughes looked slightly better, her cheeks had a bit more colour to them and her eyes weren't as red. They both exchanged a glance over their tea, and Mrs Hughes had nodded, smiled and mouthed thank you before tucking into two pieces of toast. What Anna hoped for was that this would continue, or at least the rest would keep her going for a few more days. Anna was stubborn, and between her and Mrs Patmore they could no doubt keep the woman going. When Anna had climbed into bed the night before, both her and Mr Bates had had a long conversation about how Mrs Hughes was coping and how they could lighten the load. Mr Bates was more than happy to do whatever was required to help and was fine with battling away at Thomas who would probably have something to say about the whole thing. Mrs Hughes, Anna, Mr Bates and Mrs Patmore were a force to be reckoned with, and they were strong and united when things got hard; this proved it. None of them had an agenda, none of them worked without respecting and supporting the other, and it made their work-life better for it.

Anna stood by the doorway of the room that Mary was in, flicking her fingers over the envelopes, plucking up the courage to walk in and hand them over. Anna knew that by doing that, Mary would know she had read the letter that was addressed to her, and so the admitted truths that Mary thought would be read in her absence would be out in the open. It must be hard to even write those letters, but there was solace in knowing that they would be read, and you would never have to know about it, never have to see and feel the recipient's reactions. The words in these letters would have been pure and from the heart, and would be hard to admit to anyone but yourself. Anna wasn't sure what Mary was going to do with them, but they were not hers to keep, and Mary must make that decision. What would have happened if the initial letter to her had been lost? The heartbreaking words of comfort would sit under that board until the house was no more, that alone was a deep thought that rattled Anna to the core.

Anna swallowed, feeling nervous and a little disjointed, but she knew she had to do it and she knew she couldn't stay for a long time because she needed to get back before the gong. As she walked into the room, she could see Mary stood at the window, staring out into the distance, her face vacant and emotionless. Upon hearing Anna's footsteps, Mary's head turned, and her lips curved ever so slightly into a half-masted smile, but she didn't say anything.

"Lady Mary," Anna said happily, relieved to see her looking so well considering what she had been through. The contrasting image of her lying on the floor after she had been found felt like something out of a nightmare. "I'm sorry I've not been down to see you; it's just been ever so busy the past few days. The time was for your family, and so I didn't want to intrude. You've been in my thoughts and I've been getting updates."

Mary's smile began to grow bigger, and she nodded silently before walking away from the window and getting onto the bed. "Oh Anna," she said quietly. "I'm so very glad to see you, I have to admit. I've had family visit, but it's so hard to face them. I feel like I've let them all down." Mary paused as Anna took a seat in the chair next to her bed. "I know it's different between us and I feel like I've let you down too though, and I'm sorry for that. Truly."

Anna let her words run through her mind and knew that Mary should have come to her with her troubles for that very reason, but in the heat of the moment, it was easy to forget that people are there to support you. "No, My Lady, please don't feel that way. We all care very deeply for you and you could never let us down."

"You're speaking about your own feelings, Anna," Mary chided, fixing her gaze on her faithful friend. "I don't think that it transcends through everyone. I see it in my parent's eyes. I know they don't fully understand or realise-"

"That it all got too much?" Anna had struggled to figure out when she was going to plant the bomb that she had read the letter, and so nervously pushed into the conversation when it felt natural to cut in. Anna pulled the letters out so that Mary could see them in her hand.

Mary's heart seemed to skip a beat, in all the turmoil, the guilt and the visitors, she had forgotten about the letters. Thinking about the intimate words that she had carefully written for each of the people in her life that she cared for, she felt a gush of embarrassment and guilt and looked away, her eyes finding solace in the window once more. No eyes were looking back at her, and she was able to look out without any judgement or nervous glances. Although Mary struggled to fully remember the words written in each of the letters, the haze nearly at the peak of its thickness when she wrote them, she knew she had poured as much of her being into the ink that flowed from the pen and onto the page as she could. They had been, as she had remembered, as heartfelt, brutal, truthful and as naked as any words she had previously put onto paper. "Do you think less of me?"

Anna placed the letters onto the bed and leant forward. "I could never think any less of you, Lady Mary. What you've been through is one of the worst possible situations that someone could go through, and you reacted in a way that you could not help. I could never imagine losing Mr Bates. I'm thankful that they found you though, and pray that you maintain the strength that I know is in there to keep yourself moving forward and not back. Why didn't you come to me, My Lady?"

"Oh, Anna. You've always been so kind to me, and I know that we are friends, and you're so unbelievably loyal. I don't think I deserve it. The run-up to me leaving the house was something of a blur, I just know that I felt like I had no other option, no other way than escaping. It felt that no words I could say to anyone would make it better, or make them understand the coring and penetrating unhappiness that tainted every thought and feeling. The pain was unbearable, and no matter what I did or thought it never eased. When I made that decision to let it overwhelm me, it made me feel calm and at peace. The thought of going back to the house or to face the grief was too much and I didn't want the calmness to go away." Mary stopped when she realised what she was saying. "I'm sorry."

Anna squeezed Mary's hand tight, watching as she tried to swallow down the tears. "No, My Lady, please. You should have come to me; I would have helped you in any way that I could. You know I'm always here for you, always, and I want you to know that I will do whatever you need, even if it's just to listen. I pass no judgement, I couldn't bear the thought of losing Mr Bates, so for you to lose the love of your life after giving birth to your son…well, I couldn't put it into words."

"That's the thing, Anna. I know that you would do all of that, but I wasn't thinking rationally, the things that went through my head were cold and empty. It's all still there, it's not gone anywhere, but after Carson's words I know I have to overcome it for my son and Matthew." The sound of Carson's name made her hesitate. "Oh, that poor man. Between you and him you've both kept me upright time and time again, and I repay Carson by landing him in the hospital."

"I think he'll be ok, Lady Mary. That man has a core of steel. I don't think he could leave us lot to look after the house in his absence," she smirked a little, trying to lighten the tone. "How are you, Lady Mary? I mean, how are you feeling now?"

Lady Mary sighed and returned her gaze to the window in the distance, watching as the wind sent the picked-up debris floating past the window. There was a strange feeling within her, and it was hard to put into words. The unhappiness was still there, deep within her, thrashing around as she tried with all her might to keep it locked inside of her chest. There was a worry that she couldn't fully suppress, and it reminded her constantly of what she had put her family and friends through amidst the chaos that was her grief. Then there was still that look that her Mama would give her whenever she was around, like Mary was going to break at any second, that made her feel even more guilty about her actions. Then there was her son, born into this world to such love and hope, and then he was almost pushed to one side so that Mary could selfishly wallow in her mind and sadness. Mary was going to be his Mother and his Father and bring him up with the love of both parents. She knew she had to. So, in the grander scheme of things the realisation was a power to keep her moving onwards, so that, she supposed, made her better than she had been. "In all honesty, Anna, it's still incomprehensively difficult. I don't wish to try and dampen the fact that I am a complete mess, and still being fuelled by my grief. The pain…it's the most unbearable thing I have ever felt in all my years. There is nothing that could prepare you for it, and when it came it took me from myself and left me stranded in a pool of nothing. I have moments when I want the ground to swallow me whole and make it all go away for good. I then think of the words that Carson spoke to me, the realisations that he made me see, and the fact that he is now in a bed in a hospital to drive me forward. I will get there, but for now, I can't tell you just how hard it is. I thank you though, for giving me these letters."

Anna nodded. "You're welcome, My Lady. Can you promise me something? Whilst I'm here?"

"Promise is such a binding word," Mary answered dryly, lifting the letters into her hand and twiddling with the top of the bow. "You know, I can't remember what I put in these with great detail. It's funny, isn't it? How the brain can just block out certain things. You'd expect the poignant words that are no doubt in here to be completely and utterly rememberable, but it's all a haze."

"The words were sad but beautiful," Anna gushed. "You're very good with words. I cried once I soaked it all in, felt the pain radiate up at me like a flame. That's why I want you to promise me something though?"

"I suppose I owe you that," Mary said calmly.

"Come to me if all feels lost again. If not me, then to Carson if he can. Just have a conversation, that's all." Anna kept her eyes fixed on Lady Mary with an assertive but friendly gaze.

Mary nodded her head, knowing she had to do at least that if only to save herself and allow Anna to feel comfort in it. "Ok, I will. Anna," she paused and let the letter sit flat against her chest. "I'm truly sorry for what I put you through."

"You don't have to apologise to me, My Lady. I'll have your corner. Always."

Mary kept her gaze with Anna, the love and friendship radiating out in a single glance. They both appreciated each other for what they were, the years they had spent together, and how they have been there for each other time and time again. Mary could see it in her gaze that no words needed to be said about the situation, because Anna, as she knew, was as loyal to the bone and would do as she said. "Thank you. Now please," she exclaimed. "Talk to me about the house, about life outside of this building. Remind me of something normal because I'm climbing the walls right now, and although it's justified, it doesn't mean I'm enjoying it."

"Well, even in the house it isn't running like normal," Anna grimaced slightly. "It's hard without Carson. Mrs Hughes is ruling with a strong arm, but it just doesn't seem the same without him. Not that I'm putting Mrs Hughes down, not at all, she's doing a wonderful job, it's just…not the same."

"Carson is the house," Mary replied solemnly. "That man knows every nook, every crack and can anticipate anything we throw at him. I'm also not surprised given how much time Mrs Hughes is spending up here. It's generally like clockwork. I make sure that I'm not around during those hours so as not to get in the way. I don't know how she is managing to run a house, doing two jobs, and then spend most of her free time here by his bedside. It's commendable."

"Yes, well…" Anna turned her head awkwardly away, not wanting to broach the subject anymore. How Mrs Hughes was with Mr Carson was their business. "When do you think they'll let you home?"

Mary caught Anna's awkward glance straight away, seeing her eyes move to the side and away from the topic. This aroused Mary's suspicions even more about the relationship between the two. Should she push? No, not yet, Mary had no right. The main priority was to have Mr Carson well again and back into his rightful place running her home. It didn't seem right to push into their business when Carson was still not back on his feet, so she knew she would wait. It didn't matter though, because if it was something that Carson wanted then she knew that she would back his corner, desperate for him to have some sort of happiness in his life aside from his job that was his whole world. "I'm fine apparently. A clean bill of health. They are just being cautious and want me to be here for a little longer. I know it's because of what I did, so I will accept that if it helps the people around me."

Anna had known Lady Mary for a long time, and it was unusual for her to be so aware and so thoughtful of people. It wasn't that Mary was cold, but she was just very strong-willed and knew what she wanted. This whole situation had affected her more than she had thought, but it wasn't necessarily in a bad way, because there could never be too much kindness in this world. "I'll be very glad when we get to have you home," Anna said happily.

"Thank you, Anna." Their eyes met and they exchanged glances, not of employer and employee but as friends. "I mean it. I'm really and truly thankful."

"Always." Anna smiled and got to her feet. "I better get back to the house before the gong. I hope you'll be home soon, if not I'll try and get away in a few days to come and see you."

"I'll look forward to either of those scenarios." Mary watched as Anna left, a sadness at being left on her own. It felt good to have some sort of normalcy in her day having been inside now for days. It wasn't right for her to complain though, and so she wouldn't. What she had in her lap was a group of letters that she couldn't fully remember the contents of. The thoughts crossed her mind about opening and reading them, giving them to their intended recipients or destroying them so that her thoughts and feelings were lost to the ether so she could move on. The decision was not one she could make just yet, and so she tucked them under her pillow until she could decide what it was she could do, the words making it seem as if the envelopes themselves had absorbed the sadness, the paper cool against her skin.

* * *

Carson felt the chill against his neck as frigid air whipped around him, the sharp daggers stabbing into him from every available angle. The collar on his coat flapped aimlessly in the wind, and so he pulled it tight against him as best he could, keeping his meaningful strides moving in the right direction. As he placed each foot down, he tried his best to delicately avoid the roots that sprung up at irregular intervals, like solid worms weaving holes in the sodden earth. Ahead there was a bramble that pointed high in the air, the needles menacing and sharp. As Carson looked around, he could see no other viable route, and so he closed his eyes and pressed himself into the bush, the needles pricking at him through his clothes and scraping against his skin. Carson was used to hard work, and he knew that if this was the way he had to go to save Lady Mary, then he had to trudge on and take the pain.

A shrill shriek penetrated the air around him, and his heart jumped in his chest, making him take a deep breath as the panic coursed through his veins. The thoughts rushing around in his head pointed straight to the worst possible scenario. "Lady Mary!" he bellowed, his voice lost into the whistle and noise of the passing gale, making his words vanish no sooner as they escaped his lips.

The hairs on his neck stood on end as he felt an electrical presence around him, feeling like there was a body pressing against him. "It wasn't meant to be," a voice whispered behind his right ear, making him jerk to see where it was coming from. A chorus of whispers, with words unrecognisable to his ear, twisted and turned in every audible direction and he closed his eyes. A loud bang erupted just ahead of him, and he opened his eyes and was then met with a completely different landscape. Now he stood out in the open, the rolling Yorkshire hills curving into the distance like waves on the sea, bobbing and rolling in a tide of green as far as the eye could see. The sun-blasted out from behind a white fluffy cloud, the rays so bright he had to put his hand over his eyes so he could focus on the landscape. Carson felt confused by what he was being presented with, he felt it deep within him that he had a sense of purpose in finding Mary, but the world kept changing. Was this a nightmare?

"You should have left me to my own devices. You had no right to interfere," the voice hissed above him, sending a chill down his spine. The voice sounded like it should be ahead of him, but it seemed to bounce around like he was stood inside of a tunnel. It made no logical sense because he was stood out in the open when you wouldn't expect any reverberation. Carson felt completely disorientated and decided to put his hands over his eyes to try and rub the confusion away. What was this? What was going on? Was this hell? Was this because he had failed?

Carson tried with all his might to run through the steps of the previous day in his mind, to try and backtrack to figure out what was going on and why he had ended up here. The memories felt like they were locked inside an impenetrable case inside of his mind, and no matter which angle he went to, it just wouldn't budge open. It was almost like Deja Vu, his mind teetering on the edge of realising what had been going on, but it never fully materialising into anything. As he shook his head, annoyed and worried, he felt a pressure on his elbow. Shocked, he peered down to see a hand gripping him firmly, the skin white as it squeezed tightly. As he looked at it closer, he could see that the skin on the fingers was aged, used to hard work, and somewhat familiar.

"You should never have risked yourself for her," the soft familiar tone of Mrs Hughes echoed around him, the gentle squeeze on his left elbow intensifying. A shiver crept up his spine and he exhaled sharply, trying to catch his bearings as the world around him began to spin. There was a massive clap in the air, and a flash, and he felt his body fall back as if he was free-falling from the edge of a cliff. The world around him rushed past and he tried to fix his gaze onto something solid to make the feeling go away.

"Your Lady Mary. It has always been your Lady Mary," Mrs Hughes' voice echoed behind him, the soft tones turned bitter before he landed with an almighty thud. The air became warm and a smell filled his nostrils making him feel a burning in the pit of his stomach that then turned into a butterfly sensation. Focusing on the smell he inhaled as far as his lungs allowed, and he realised that the scent was so very familiar. Working in the Abbey, they didn't have much, but he knew that Mrs Hughes had a small bottle of scent that she kept hidden in her room for times when she was able to go out. They didn't get out much, especially as they had got older, but he knew it and he felt it wash through him like a warm and familiar electrical pulse. It awoke a longing in him that he had been squashing for years, avoiding and filling with other things. It was not the first time he had realised his fondness for her.

Mrs Hughes then stood before him, a ray of sun catching a few stray strands that hadn't been pulled as tight as they should, and a warm auburn reflected like the glow of an ember. Over the years he had begun to notice the subtle beauties that Mrs Hughes held, and it had never been his place to comment on them directly, but it had not stopped him thinking them. There was a glint in her eye that never faltered, strength in her core that burnt as bright as a million candles, and when she wasn't looking at him he would watch the way her face fell into a natural beauty that should have been painted into a work of art. Although he had not known her when she was younger, he knew that she had been a catch, and still was a catch, and would make any man so very happy.

"Mrs Hughes," Carson called out, trying to walk towards her as fast as he could. As soon as he took a step, his body seemed to move back two more, and so he could never quite reach her.

Then it all went black, there was no sound, no noise and nothing he could make out in the deep and absorbing darkness. "Hello?" he cried, trying to move his arms but feeling no movement from his limbs and no voice emanated from his dry and parched lips. Was this what death was? Was this how he would spend the rest of his days?

Thoughts still coursed through his mind, and he thought about the years he had spent working in service, serving the family and giving his life and energy into something that would never be his. The walls, the corridors, the furniture and the rooms would never be his and yet he must keep them standing. The grass, the trees, the flowers and the land would never be his but still, he must make sure they are kept. The hall boys, the maids, the footmen and the kitchen staff would never be more than ants in the colony as they served their leader. Then there was the family, his Lord, his Ladyship, their children and relatives that would never be anything more than his masters. The children that had grown up before his eyes would never be his, and yet with Mary, it had felt like he had gotten as close as he could get to having an actual daughter, but was that enough? Had his energy been spent in vain? Should he have spent his time on a profession where he could have his own family? Of course, this meant that he may not have the luxuries he has now, but he could have been happy and had a daughter that he could have doted on with every fibre of his being.

No. It didn't matter how and what he thought about, there was nothing he could do to change his destiny now, but he was thankful for the connections that he had made and the way he had been able to watch and help Mary grow into a fine young woman. Carson knew that he shouldn't dwell on what couldn't be changed. If this was the end of his time, then he had done well and made a difference to at least one person. What did all of this all mean?

The air around him seemed to reverberate and hum as if he was sitting on a train, small patches of light poked into the darkness like the stars that shone in the night. "You'll always be there for me won't you, Carson?" Mary called out sadly. "You'll never let me fall again?"

Carson fixed onto the brightest star in the sky and shouted, "As I live and breathe, my Lady, as I live and breathe."

Directly ahead, like a train light in a tunnel, an orb appeared in the distance, it's light soft in contrast to the pinpricked darkness. There were shadows that seemed to twist and turn in the orb and propel it forward as it began to increase in size, moving towards him at an increasing pace. Carson was then catapulted into his pantry, and he landed on his feet with a firm and satisfying thud. Ahead of him, he could see Mrs Hughes hunched over on one of the small chairs, her eyes downcast and sad look in her eyes, a small slither of paper in her hand. There was a light above them that hit her features in such a way that it seemed as if she was glowing, and Carson gave himself an extra second to admire her for everything that she was to him. As he did, however, he noticed a tear track slowly down her cheek and he did something unceremonious and got down on his knee, his stomach somersaulting unhappily at the sight of seeing her so unhappy. "Mrs Hughes?" he whispered softly, his normally hard and baritone voice reduced to a gentle and soothing hush.

"I can't do this without you, Charlie," she sniffed, another tear moving along the other side of her face. "This place will not be the same, and I don't think I can do this without you by my side." Then the tears began to fall in quick succession.

"You are a strong woman, Mrs Hughes. You can do anything you set your mind to." Carson tried to reach out to her, but his arms were fixed at his side like stone. It hadn't occurred to him that she was talking to the air around her, and not actually to him. Was she even aware of his presence? Was this moment spent on her own in his pantry without him? Why would he be witness to this if he could not act and help? There was a pang of frustration and sadness within him that he could not control because it was perhaps the only time he had seen her so openly vulnerable, and his heart broke for her. Even when they thought she was ill, even when she was having a hard time, she never backed down.

Mrs Hughes stood from the chair and wiped at her face with her hand before removing tissue from her pocket. Quickly she wiped her face and moved over to the door, her hand resting on it as she pressed her forehead against the crook of her elbow. Carson could feel the pain radiate out of her like the heat from a fire, and he got back to his feet to move towards her. If he couldn't interact with her, maybe he could at least try and get to the bottom of it. As he walked behind, he noticed again that it didn't matter how much he pushed forward, he couldn't keep up and trailed behind her. Panic rose in his chest, a pain pulling at his heart as he tried to break past the invisible barrier that was pressing into him like a bull. "Mrs Hughes," he yelled after her, his legs almost at a running pace but no distance did he cover. "Mrs Hughes!"

The air vibrated, humming against his skin as Carson plunged into the darkness again. The room around him seemed to spin off into a vortex, like water down a plughole. "Elsie!" he cried as he fell to his knees, something grabbing him from behind and ripping him backwards.

* * *

Mary sat at Carson's side with his hand in one and a book in another. It had been a few hours since she had turned up, the daylight waking her from her restless slumber and preventing her from falling back to sleep. Cousin Isobel had brought her a few books to read and a message from her Grandmother that she was going to be visiting her later that day. The book had come as a pleasant surprise, and it had offered her some sort of distraction. In her mind, she thought that she should go home now that she, in Dr Clarkson's words, was physically well. However, Dr Clarkson being as cautious as he was wanted her to stay at least one more day, and given the pain and worry she had put her family through she had obliged because she could be there to check on Carson and also appease her Mama who still kept giving her that worrisome gaze.

As she sat quietly reading the final words of the chapter, Mary felt an unexpected twitch from one of Carson's fingers and she stared at it intently, wondering if she had imagined it in a state of wishful thinking. Mary, distracted, dropped the book to the floor and got to her feet, keeping her eyes completely fixated on his hand, checking for signs of life. The finger twitched again, and she felt a nervous excitement build in her chest. This had to be a good sign, she thought to herself, this had to be something positive. Moving her gaze to his face she saw his lip purse and twist to the side, small movements popping up from his limbs like a dreaming dog, oblivious to his real surroundings as he moved in unison to what was going on in his brain. "Elsie," he whimpered, his hand then gripping Mary's hand tightly.

As Mary stood there completely transfixed with these movements, she realised the unfamiliar name was Mrs Hughes' first name. It had taken her a moment to realise that she had heard it a few times before, but had never directly called the Housekeeper it in all the years that they had been there together. It was foreign, but clearly, Carson had called it her before, and Mary knew now, without any shadow of a doubt, that there was more between them than she had ever thought. Out of all of this, the whole upheaval of the past few days, and the first word from his mouth was that of his co-worker.

Mary felt Carson twitch once more before pulling her hand free. Dr Clarkson needed to be here, this was big and something important. Wrapping herself up she moved the chair out of the way and shot out of the room to try and get someone. This had to be the end of all this turmoil and worry. It had to be


	18. Chapter 18

**Hiiii. A short one :) I'm now working from home due to COVID-19, so hopefully can get some serious writing in so I can get this finished. Thanks again for keeping up with this and supporting me with all your feedback. I feel the love. Hope everyone is keeping safe out there!**

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Mrs Hughes had her hand on the door to Carson's pantry, her knees, shoulders, arms and back all aching with a penetrating tiredness. The tissue was clenched between her fingers and she nestled her head into the crook of her elbow, feeling an overwhelming desire to just give up and resign herself to the burning fatigue that gripped every fibre of her being. It was like half of her body was missing without Carson around, and although she was trying, it just didn't meet the cut. Inside Carson's pantry, she felt shielded from the world, her own little haven from the hustle and bustle of the house as people respected the fact that Carson wasn't around. In some unusual way, it made her feel close to him when she couldn't be near him when it all got too much for her to handle. Anna watched over her all the time; Mrs Hughes had noticed her hovering in the background when she wasn't running around the house. Mrs Patmore went out of her way to try and ply her with biscuits and other sugary goodies to keep her on her feet, but most of the time it just wasn't enough, but still, she trudged on. It was warming, however, to feel the comradery of the staff at this time. There was the odd complaint, but they were all running around and getting things done.

"Pull yourself together, Elsie," she grumbled under her breath, shoving the tissue back into her pocket before she straightened out her uniform. Twisting, she turned so she leant against the door with her head resting upwards. As she stared out at the room, letting the familiarity calm her, she took a deep breath, letting the essence of Carson wash through her. Then, her ears began to ring, that high pitched noise making her clench her eyes together as she tried to keep her balance as the floor below her bobbed and twisted. The hairs on her arm stood on end and she felt an electricity in the air around her like a static buzzing and twitching. Shaking her head, she pushed the feeling to one side and stepped forward before grabbing the doorknob. It was time to get moving before someone noticed that she was absent.

When Mrs Hughes moved towards the stairs, she popped her head into the kitchen to see what was going on. Mrs Patmore was tasting a sauce as Daisy stood at the stove, mixing and checking on the vegetables that were simmering away. "Is everything ok, Mrs Patmore?" she queried.

Mrs Patmore's eyes shot up, and she gave Mrs Hughes that questioning gaze she had seen over the past few days as if she didn't understand why it wouldn't be. Of course, it had been a long time since Mrs Patmore had messed up the food, her eyesight fixed now, and Daisy being much more competent in her own work. "Fine, Mrs Hughes," she said politely. "Just fine." It was forced politeness for the sake of her tired friend.

"Right, well, I'm just going upstairs if you need me." Mrs Hughes smiled thinly and moved her gaze to the spread of food on the table, she wished that she had skills like this, but she had never had to cook for anyone other than herself for some time. It would be nice to learn.

Mrs Hughes lifted her tired feet and climbed the stairs and out into the hallway, her eyes casting over the room as she did for anything out of place. Mr Carson frequently did that, and she had picked this up and tried with all her might to keep an eye on the standards. What Anna had said had resonated with her a little, about not wanting people to think badly of her, and so she kept watching and looking at everything as if she was him. Channelling an inner Carson was a struggle, but she was trying, and she knew that she would get better over time if she ever needed to.

When she walked towards the front door she could see Lord Grantham with his back to her, chatting quite animatedly on the phone. Not wanting to seem like she was prying, she moved quickly down the hall, her ears instinctively trying to hone into the conversation, even though she knew that it wasn't right.

"Mrs Hughes?" Cora said quizzically, stopping right in front of Mrs Hughes. "I don't think you heard me." The look on her face was not one of annoyance, far from it, in fact, it was more of worry. They were all accustomed to the pointed glare when Cora was annoyed, which was rarely, as she was quite rational in her approach. The main thing about her was her eyes, and they probed and sought out the other pair of eyes as if to extract enough information to make a conclusion. They were quite intimidating, the bottomless ocean blue was soft, but they unwaveringly fixed themselves on their target.

Mrs Hughes raised her eyes to meet her employer and smiled thinly, trying to pull her gaze away from Cora's eyes as they probed hers with intent. Subconsciously, Mrs Hughes blinked and straightened herself up, flattening her dress as she did, pushing away her thoughts to give out her full attention. "Oh, My Lady, I'm so very sorry."

Cora could see the whites of Mrs Hughes' eyes were tinted pink, thin blood capillaries sitting in the corner, contrasted by the dark bags under her eyes and paleness of her skin. The older woman was distant, her attention anywhere but in the moment, worry permeating every pore. Cora bypassed the apology, as she knew that there was no ill-intent in her mental absence. "I do worry we're putting too much on you. Are you getting enough rest?"

Mrs Hughes' stomach dropped sharply, her bottom lip dropping slightly as she took in the words. Anna's conversation filled her mind, making her eyebrows crease together, is this what she had meant? Are people thinking negative about her? Was she not doing her job so much that they were beginning to question her? "I can handle it, My Lady. I'm fine. The job needs doing, and we will make sure that it is done."

Cora tried to gauge why Mrs Hughes seemed so defensive, but then the woman was made of iron and a query of her being could be seen as an envision of weakness. It's not what Cora had wanted, not at all in fact, she was just concerned for her. Yes, it was her job to keep things running in the home, and she always did this so well. Now, however, she was doing essentially 2 roles, and she felt that this was perhaps unfair. "We appreciate your hard work, Mrs Hughes. You've come to the rescue in this difficult time. I just would like you to look after yourself. We'd be lost without you."

Mrs Hughes nodded, torn between relief and frustration. It was an amalgamation of the two that made her feel a bit on edge, and she politely nodded her head as she tried to create a rationale in her mind. "Thank you, My Lady. Is there anything you need?"

Cora's mouth opened to reply when her eyes caught Robert moving toward them in the background with a huge grin on his face. Stepping to the side she moved towards him. "Oh, darling, you look so happy. What's bought this on?"

"My Darling, I have some wonderful news. Mrs Hughes, you need to hear this too." Robert waited for them to still. "Our dear Carson is awake. Dr Clarkson is going to run some tests, but he's finally awake. It's a positive moment, and I can't help but feel some semblance of relief."

Cora raised her hands and pressed them together, before reaching out for her husband's hand. "Oh, Darling, that's wonderful news. I've been so worried about him."

Mrs Hughes, hearing the words, exhaled sharply and felt her stomach flip into a somersault. There was a chair to the right of her and she instinctively reached out for it as she heard the blood rushing in her ears, the crippling worry inside of her beginning to break down into pieces. These pieces broke down and transformed into little balls of fire that rushed through her system like lava, and she hoped with everything within her that this was a start to the road to recovery. A desire ignited within her, now that she was one step closer to telling him the truth, to be near him, to touch him, hold his hand and hear the booming tone of his voice. It dawned on her that it had been some time now since she had heard his voice resonating down the halls that made her smile, or the look he would give her that would send her stomach into a cascade of butterflies trying to escape. When would she get to go down and see him? She supposed she would have to wait until her usual time. A small hint of desperation filled her mind now, surging into her brain like lava, overlapping all of her other thoughts and wishes. What she wanted was to be with him.

Robert smiled happily at his wife before kissing her hand and holding it tight at their side. "This is wonderful news, isn't it? I feel like things will be back to normal soon, and we will have everyone home."

Cora looked out to Mrs Hughes who looked like all the air had deflated from her body in a way she assumed was from relief. "Mrs Hughes," she said softly. "I think you should go and give everyone downstairs the good news. I think we all need a little pick me up, and I think you should give them that right now."

Mrs Hughes nodded happily. "I'll go do that now, My Lady. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"No, Mrs Hughes," Cora said happily. "Please, go ahead."

Cora and Robert watched happily as she went on her way. Robert snaked his arm around his wife's waist and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Oh, my darling, I feel as if soon this will all be over, and we will go back to normal."

Cora nestled into him before lifting her head and giving him a gentle kiss. "It may take a bit of time, but yes, I hope so. I've been worried about Mrs Hughes; I think she's been struggling through all of this."

"I think she's been coping remarkably," Robert acknowledged, rubbing her back softly.

Cora knew her husband struggled with the finite details of other people sometimes, and knew he hadn't seen what she had, but she was enjoying the embrace too much to argue. If she did, she knew that he might get annoyed with the contradiction and pull away. What she did know, and what she had felt, was that they were somewhat closer. There were glances, touches, embraces and a warmth that she craved now that it was coming in droves. Feeling happy, she wrapped her arms as tightly against him as she could, pulling into him so he was enveloped around her in a protective cocoon. Resting her head against him, she let the warmth roll over her and she sighed contently.

"Everything ok, Cora?" Robert asked, resting his head on hers.

"I'm fine. I wish I could just bottle this up forever," she said happily, giving his back a gentle pinch.

"This?" Robert queried, not quite understanding what she meant.

"Us." Cora pulled away slightly so she could look at his face. "I wish I could bottle us."

Robert smiled kindly, knowing what she meant by the fact that they seemed so close at the moment. Robert loved her so much, and this crisis had pulled them back into each other in a way that he had not expected. They both stood smiling at each other for a few moments before they took each other's hands to begin walking off. Robert stopped though, her words having sunk in that little bit more. "I will love you and be there for you until I can no more. We are one, my darling, forever and always."

Cora felt her heart burst with love as she gazed upon his soft expression. "I love you, so very much."

Mrs Hughes walked down the stairs as quickly as she could, her mind running through how she was going to relay the information to everyone. This would no doubt bring their spirits up and hopefully bring them all to the end of this chaotic struggle that day to day life had become. It would all fall into place in the end if it had to, and they would manage, but that wasn't the reason they wanted it to all end. They wanted Carson back with them.

"Mrs Hughes" Anna said happily as she came into view in the corridor.

"Anna," Mrs Hughes replied with a hurried pitch to her voice. "Can you gather everyone nearby and get them here quickly. I have some news."

Anna hesitated as she tried to gauge what the news was going to be. Mrs Hughes was not giving much away, so she nodded and went off to pass over the call to accumulate as quickly as she could.

Mrs Hughes paced a little as people began to appear from different directions, nervous murmurs and quizzical expressions as they looked to her for further information. Once she could see nearly everyone was present, she cleared her throat and clasped her hands together. "I have just received some news from his Lordship." Pausing, she smiled and made eye contact with Anna. "Mr Carson is awake!"

Happy murmuring and chatter erupted all around her as people started talking to each other about the wonderful news. "I don't know anything more than that. Dr Clarkson is doing some tests and we will get an update in due course. Now, I know we're all rushed off of our feet at the minute, and you've all been working to an amazing pace. We just need to maintain that. I don't know when and how things will go, but we must maintain Mr Carson's high standard until he can look after the house once more. So, please, let's get back to work."

Mrs Hughes left the area and retreated into Carson's pantry, closing the door carefully behind her, bringing her hand up to her chest and letting out a huge sigh. A flood of emotion cascaded through her body as she let the news sink in. There was an unprecedented level of relief within her that made her hum because the biggest part was getting him to be awake. With head injuries, as she knew, there could be complications and mental hindrances that could make this much worse than what they thought. However, she had to be positive about this because it was something to hold onto. There was also an element of terror because to have the conversation with him about how she felt was becoming more of a reality in her mind now. The essence of rejection was closer and more pronounced, and the fact that her feelings would then be out in the open was scary. At the end of the day though, this whole situation had awoken the need to let it escape, and whether it was to a reciprocated level or not she had to do it. The fear of losing him and him not knowing was far more pronounced and pressing. Aside from the negativity, there was a level of excitement, even if it was only minor. If she told him, and he felt the same, her life would feel far more complete than it had ever done before. Carson would be hers and hers alone, and this made the butterflies start like little demons inside of her stomach. The tide was uncertain right now, but she felt much better within herself. There was an increased level of energy in her and she was going to do this for him. Whether she told him right away, waited until he was better or waited until he was home floated in her mind, but for now, she just had to get on. The glue to the home and her heart was on the mend, and so she held onto that feeling as she righted herself for another few hours of arduous work.


	19. Chapter 19

**I don't think I'll be writing chapters in just a few days all of the time, but my plan is to get this finished whilst I have the time inside! I hope you like it. The way this planned out was not what I expected in all honesty, but I do love when something falls into place like that. Hope you're all keeping well in this difficult time.**

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There were many layers to Violet Crawley, the Dowager Countess of Grantham, and there were not many people who could peel them away to realise the person that lay beneath. As the matriarch of the family, she led with a stern resolve and iron tongue, determined no matter what to keep her family at the highest possible peak of the socialite and aristocratic hierarchy. The family had been around for some time, and all of her persistence and drive in the era before them was placed solely in navigating them through the ever-evolving world that threatened constant change. One of her key facets, known to more than not, was her sharp tongue and subtle hostility that often people did not know how to take. It amused her mostly, to watch people lost for words after a conversation with her. Over the years she had defined her status in society, and she knew that people often would avoid subjects so as not to feel the lashing poison of her tongue. As well as this, she was also incredibly perceptive about the people around her and could sniff things out like a boar to the truffle by listening to their lies, seeing their facial tells and aversions to her direct gaze. It had shaken her to the core, more than she cared to admit, that she had not spotted her Granddaughter's nonsensical mentality that enabled her to act in such a way. What Violet knew was that perhaps the words to Mary, the clear-cut and acidic tongue she had used, potentially had pushed the young woman to do what she had done. There had not been many times in her life where she had wished she could take her words back, but perhaps this had been one where she had wished she had gone about it a different way. What Violet also knew was that she didn't understand it, but perhaps should have been less direct with what she had to say. After all, all she had meant to say was that there was only life or death, and to be back into the world of the living would help her. Isobel Crawley, as annoying as she was, could see through her harsh exterior and had noticed the internal fretting she had done about Mary and had been the one to push her into going to the hospital. What Violet had wanted to do was wait until Mary felt better, but Isobel had instead visited the young woman herself and witnessed the downtrodden spirit and thought she should see her. So, there she stood at the hospital, her stick resting on the floor beneath her as she leant her weight into it, looking through the arch with a sense of slight bewilderment.

Violet raised her chin and began her walk into the hospital, casting her eyes over the rooms as she had always done, overseeing how it was being looked after. It was a habit she had picked up since day one and did it in almost every place she was. This hospital had always felt dear to her after all of the time she had used to help shape what it was today. As she walked towards the stairs, she noticed the nervous side-glance from a passing nurse who scuttled away like an ant to the nest, and it made her smile. Taking her time to navigate the stairs, she listened contently as her stick made a melodic thud against the firm surface beneath.

The rays of the sun cascaded through a window at the end of the corridor, and Violet could see the minute particles of dust dancing in the sunlight like little fireflies. The place needed a clean. Coming to the correct room, she moved through the threshold and stared at the room and located Mary in the far corner, a book in her hand and a distant expression on her face. The gaze she gave the outside world did not falter, so Violet cleared her throat. "Well, child, is there a marching troop of clowns outside that is taking preference over greeting me?"

Mary blinked, bringing herself back to the room and raised her eyes to meet the visitor. "Granny," she said warmly, bringing the book up to her chest and stepping away from the window slowly.

Violet watched her curiously before moving to the unoccupied chair next to the only used bed, sitting down slowly before grimacing. "These chairs are appalling."

Mary felt a rising discomfort in her chest when their gazes locked, knowing that the last proper conversation that they had was the catalyst to her downfall. If she dwelled on it, she knew that her Granny had not meant for her to lose herself in her mind and heart, or react in such a way, and had only wanted to push her into an act of realisation. "Would you like me to get someone to get you a better one? "

"Don't be ridiculous. Anyway, I'm not here to talk about furniture." Violet laughed in that warm bubbly way she had as if she had created a crowd roaring joke.

Mary just smiled and nodded politely before placing the book down gently into her lap, ensuring she could still remember the place that she had gotten to. It felt surreal to be still in the hospital, and she had almost grown to enjoy solidarity. Although her sleep still felt broken, and she had moments where she felt panicked and anxious, she had developed a routine. At certain points each day she anticipated a visitor, she would visit Carson, she would read, she would watch, and she would make mental notes about how she felt. Once Carson had awoken, and she had gone to get help, she hadn't been able to go back in and see him. At first, this bothered her because she had so much to say to him, but she accepted that work needed doing to make sure he was well and truly on the mend.

"Why haven't you gone home yet?" Violet said in a flat and unimpressed tone. "You look well enough."

"Dr Clarkson and Mama wanted me to stay here for as long as possible, to keep an eye on me no doubt. I don't mind, it's the least I could do." Mary turned her gaze to the window as she had noticed the narrowing of her Grandmother's eyes.

"Well, I think it's ridiculous. You need to get back into it. Get back to your family and your son!" Violet put her other hand on the top of her stick and leaned into it.

"Yes." Mary let her eyes cast down when she thought about George. The young boy, her son, was on her mind a lot but she felt that she wasn't quite ready to see his innocent face. There was so much she had to apologise for, even though he didn't understand, and the thought of seeing him scared her beyond belief. The young child had been on this planet for such a short time, and his life had been so complicated without him even knowing. A few more days wouldn't harm him, it's not as if there wasn't a nanny to help. Returning her gaze to her visitor, her heart and mind homed in on the stack of letters vibrating beneath her. There had been moments, long and arduous moments, where she toyed with the idea of giving these out to people to try and help them understand. Was it so she didn't have to verbalise it? Probably. Did she remember what was in them? Not really, but she knew that each of them was filled with love and adornment, as well as an insight into her drive in that dark and consuming time. "Granny?"

"Hmm?" Violet said as she redirected her gaze to her Granddaughter.

Mary reached under her pillow and lifted out the stack of envelopes, thumbing through them until she located the one she was looking for. "I wrote this for you." Mary watched as her Grandmother went to talk. "No, please. I'd like you to read it when you get home."

Violet sharply lifted her gaze to Mary's face and tried to decipher what she was trying to do. There was still a sadness in her eyes, a nervousness to her gaze, and an unambiguous fear which was no doubt directed at the reaction to the words. "My dear, it's not often one can read a letter in the presence of the writer. I'm reading it here and don't even try to persuade me otherwise. I'm too old to go home and then read it to then come back again to give my opinion of the words. I tell you I'm not writing to my granddaughter when times like these require direct interaction."

Mary's eyes grew wide, and she leant heavily into the pillow, succumbing to the words her Grandmother had spoken. It was time to face the music it seemed. Unlike facing Mrs Hughes, her Granny was more of a daunting task. Lifting herself from the bed, she moved over to the window. "I can't look at you when you do then."

Violet lifted the envelope and took the paper from within, flattening it out before tracking her gaze over to the window where Mary was stood. This was not what she had expected.

_"My Dearest Granny, _

_I look at you as the person that keeps this family together, as a glue to the Abbey and our family as a whole. I love my Papa, but you will always be the head of this family because you are so strong. A lot of people see you for your sharp tongue and unfaltering stubbornness, but I see that you have the truest intentions for us, and you had the truest intention for me. I have always admired your fiery resolve, and the way you would fight to the death if anyone ever stepped out of line or against us. You are a force to be reckoned with, Granny, and I am always thankful that you are on our side._

_I don't want you to blame yourself or feel guilty for giving me that talk, because it was the simplest form of advice and you were only trying to give me a nudge in the right direction. It was a conversation born out of love, to guide me and help me in what I can only describe as the worst time of my life. I have to choose either life or death. I know it's been said that I get my stubbornness from you, and this would be one of the finest compliments that I could receive, and why my choice should not be held against anyone but me. I've dragged this out in more ways than one as I have tried to right myself, and still, I keep falling._

_I'm in pain, Granny. I'm in more pain than I could ever put into words. I've been enveloped by unfathomable grief and I see no end to this internal struggle I deal with in every single breath. You were right, you were so very right, and I love you for having that directness and desire to try and steer me to the correct path. Everyone else has avoided it, tried to keep me wrapped in cotton wool, to let me fester in my grief until I come out the other side; apart from Carson. What I've chosen would be seen by people as the wrong choice, but it's what I must do, and I want you to respect that. I know you will. I don't want you to feel that you were the catalyst to this, because you have helped me get to the destination quicker, saving me from even more agony. _

_I love you more than you will ever know. You have given me my voice, my determination, the pig-headed stubbornness that has driven me and made me who I am today. _

_I really do love you. Forever."_

Violet placed the paper in her lap and closed her eyes. This letter was like a stab in the chest, but poignant and beautiful, and she got it. There was a sense of relief because it addressed what she came here to talk about, and although she never found it difficult to talk about things because she preferred the direct line of conversation, it was hard to read. Mary was her first-born grandchild, and Violet had watched her with great pride as she became the daring young woman that she had become. The young woman was beautiful, elegant, stubborn, fiery, caring and everything that she had hoped she would be. Mary was like her, and the rationale made sense, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow.

Violet sighed and got to her feet, stamping the stick down onto the floor in a soothing motion before striding, as best as she could, to where her Granddaughter was standing. Violet knew that Mary could see her out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze firm on the outside world. As she looked outside, following Mary's gaze, she watched as a leaf fell aimlessly from the tree and was taken by the wind up into the sky and above the hospital. "A leaf may fall, my dear, but that doesn't mean it will fall and hit the ground. Life is precious, funny, scary and downright unfair. Believe me, I've seen much more than you know, and I have seen the strongest person falter in unprecedented times. I've faltered, many times. Carson did us all the biggest gift in bringing you back. You are not done in this world, Mary. You're the leaf that fell but continues being taken by the wind. You'll fall, more times than you'll expect, but you'll always rise again. I respect everything you put in this letter, and my darling girl, I am relieved beyond all known facets that you stand before me right now."

Mary listened to the words, relieved, overwhelmed and grateful for her Granny. What she had expected was a verbal lashing of some description, but the words she could hear were soft and kind and not as direct as she was used to. "I'm so sorry, Granny," she said quietly, feeling herself get emotional and the tears begin to rush into the forefront of her eyes.

"Don't be sorry, Mary, be strong." Violet placed her hand onto Mary's and squeezed it.

Mary turned and smiled, nodding gently before leaning down to kiss her Grandmother on the cheek. "Thank you."

Violet nodded her head. "Now, I must go and have a conversation about getting this placed up to scratch. It needs a good scrubbing. Never take your eye off the ball, Mary, or let anyone take the ball out of your view."

Mary smirked, completely relieved, emotional and happy now with her decision to give the letter to her Grandmother. "Goodbye."

Violet walked away, her heart aching and the letter grasped tightly in her hand. That certainly did not go as she had expected. The conversation she thought would have been abrasive, a verbal chiding against her granddaughter but also an apology for speaking to her and saying what she did in the first place. It was clear though that Mary did not hold her to account, but in fact, respected the words for what they were; a steer to make things better. A burning relief and feeling of pride swam inside of her like prized Salmon, ready to jump up any stream that came her way. The Crawley woman were the strongest kind, and that was something to make her proud.

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Carson stared up at the ceiling for what felt like the tenth time that minute, letting the surrealness of his recollections wash over him as he tried to piece everything together. It felt like there was a mist that covered his memories like a net, preventing them from forming clearly defined pictures in his mind. The run-up to the incident was blurry but the pain and gut-wrenching sadness and despair of his Lady Mary were seared into his memory like a branded mark on livestock. Anything and everything that followed that was a mess, whether there was much of it to piece together, but he could remember the strange nightmare that he had lived before he woke up. When his eyes had opened he had been met with the worried expression of Dr Clarkson, who hovered over him with a light and made him follow it repeatedly until he was happy. In the corner of his eye, he vaguely recalled seeing Lady Mary stood at the doorway before being ushered out. Since then, and since some other random tests, he had been alone. It seemed like such a long time ago since he had spoken to anyone, a real unnerving sense of time hovering over him. Days had apparently passed, but to him, it seemed longer, and he couldn't quite put that feeling into something understandable to anyone but himself.

Carson was not good at keeping still, but he was good at taking orders. Dr Clarkson had explicitly informed him that he needed to keep still, to rest and keep himself relaxed to keep the healing process moving in the correct direction. When he moved his legs, a restlessness forming in his tired muscles, he had to force himself not to just resign and get up for a walk. At first, when he had awoken, he had felt a searing pain that coursed over his head like waves of lightning infused fire, making him wince as he tried to focus on the world. Dr Clarkson had made him go through some speech tests, listening tests and also asked for a consensus on how he was feeling. Carson being Carson, wanting to get back to the house, had played down his ailments. Dr Clarkson had seen through this and told him that if he didn't tell the truth it could hamper his recovery and see him bed-bound for months. They had given him painkillers that had helped wonderfully, and so he lay in a numb and warm cocoon with nothing but his thoughts.

Carson was not a man to dwell too much on his thoughts, always being focused on the job at hand and the desire to get things done properly. The problem with being in your mind, and so he had found, was that he began to worry. The slight detour from his normal thoughts had him thinking about Mary, and how she had gotten so wrapped up in her grief, and there was a bit more understanding as he felt his stomach twist when he wondered about how the house was coping without him there. The idea of Thomas taking overfilled him with dread, the tasks he divvied out would no doubt be laced with malice. Although perhaps it was Mrs Hughes that was driving from the front. If that was so, he had nothing to worry about because she would not let him down.

The image of Mrs Hughes' face sprang to his mind and he thought about the unusual dream. In his head he had seen her suffering and worrying about not being able to cope without him, the tears falling down her face like little mirrored balls of sadness. The feelings he had felt towards her were so pronounced at that moment, how he had wanted to reach out to her as she crumbled in front of his eyes, the vulnerability so crystal as it emanated from her whole body. They had worked together for so many years, and although he had seen her in some predicaments, she had always remained resilient and strong which is why it had bothered him. Carson sighed, feeling anxious and off as he imagined her being so unhappy and him not being able to help her. Mr Carson, whether he liked to admit it or not, always kept a watchful eye over his colleague. It wasn't because he thought she couldn't do her job, or that she required it, but it was because he cared about her. This level of care was not one of someone that looked after a house, it was deeper than that, so much deeper than anyone could ever guess. That was his secret, and he would continue to do that for as long as he was head of the house. It had developed gradually until she resonated deep within his heart, taking him by surprise one day when he caught himself watching her write, a warm feeling sitting inside him as he gazed upon her from a distance. When he looked at her, gazing over her features, the desire to hug her and touch her filled every muscle. Carson was good at keeping himself at bay because he was a man of the job, a man of a high standard and he had never wanted to jeopardise any of that. What he had grown to know was that he was content, if he had to be, with her just being someone he worked closely with. Having that companionship, the one he had with her, was a blessing in itself and was enough to keep him warm at night. They were around each other throughout the day and always rounded off the evening with a conversation that encompassed both work and themselves. At that moment he wondered if she would come to visit him, so he could see her, check that she was ok and see how the house was going. Squashing that idea, he knew she would likely be too busy to think about being at the hospital because she would have to eat and to rest whilst juggling the tasks at hand. It wouldn't be long until he was back on his feet, and back in his place within the home, and his place by her side.

The temperature had dropped a little as the sun had fallen in the world outside, so Carson decided he needed to do what he could to get himself better. As painful and irritating as it was, if it was the way to get out of here then he was going to do what he needed to get himself back on his feet. As it had cooled, he lifted the blanket high to his chin and calmed himself. Working in the job he had he was quite able to drop off to sleep when he needed, his body accustomed to squeezing rest in when he had the time. As he slowed his breathing, taking drawn-out exhales and clearing his mind of anything that didn't need to be there, he pushed all the tension from his body so all of his muscles relaxed. The hardest part of the whole wind-down process was clearing his mind completely and making it blank. The thoughts of the house were expelled quickly, the worry for Mary put into a space in the back of his mind, and the various questions and concerns in a vault for tomorrow. The final thing to put to rest was the image of Mrs Hughes, her features soft and caring as her eyes looked back, his body feeling warm in her gaze as she locked eyes with him. At that moment, he delayed the wind-down process for a few more seconds so he could take in her beauty one last time before he went to sleep. At night, she was always the last thing on his mind before he went to sleep, and that would never change. It was always going to be her.


	20. Chapter 20

**I hope everyone is keeping safe in these uncertain times. Things have been crazy :O**

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Mary had taken a wander down into the hospital garden to get some fresh air and to break the monotony of her morning. The hospital garden was a quaint little grassed area that resided at the back, it was simple, elegant and enough for what she needed it for. It wasn't the same as the vast open space that the Abbey had to offer, the broad rolling green blankets that were spotted with ancient trees, blooming flowers and the magnificent Folly that was centralised from the view from the library. Mary had spent many hours exploring the grounds of the Abbey, even in her younger years, and she had places that she knew she could go to if she just needed a little break from the normal stresses of her life. Those stresses seemed mostly irrelevant now, overshadowed by the giant of her grief, the monster of emotion that swam through her body and the behemoth of energy required to keep herself upright and functioning at the basic level. There had been a realisation, in the hours spent in her thoughts, that some of the things that drove her before, now meant very little. Taking time for herself, away from the home, meant that these things were not thrust back into her daily life, and so she could be thankful for the things she truly appreciated and missed. It had put a lot into perspective. What she needed to do was concentrate on the things that gave her joy, above the things that she was supposed to do because of who she was expected to be. The long and arduous conversations and arguments about the most ridiculous things seemed irrelevant here. Life in the hospital was simple, and she had grown fond of it almost.

The air had become a little warm outside, spring creeping out from behind the clouds like a bear out of hibernation. It reminded her that the world was beginning to wake from its winter slumber, like that bear, and the world was beginning to fill with colour. Small yellow flowers peeped out in the corner of the garden, reaching towards the sun like beautiful silk fingers, intent on taking in as much of the sun as they could. The world just seemed to be a bit happier when the sun came out, and so she tried to absorb as much of it as she could, like the flowers, trying to fill herself with the warmth from the sun's rays. It was all a pleasant distraction for her.

A bird flew down onto the grass a few metres away, and Mary watched with curiosity as it dug into the soil with fervour and determination. The bird gripped something and gave it a sharp tug, removing it from the soil in one quick pull. Wiggling angrily, the worm flapped around in the bird's beak, not knowing what was going on. The bird lifted its head towards the sky, before opening its wings and flying up into the air before heading into the nearby tree. Mary blinked, marvelling at the bird's speed and agility, and the beauty and agony of what just unfolded in front of her. The worm, completely ignorant to the situation, was plucked from its life and would die, but in contrast, would feed and keep the bird, or it's chicks alive. It allowed a small ball of sadness to creep back into her psyche, the worm reminded her of Matthew, going about his life without a care in the world, to then be plucked from it without any notice or hesitation. It didn't make sense to Mary in some respect, at to how something like that could remind her of Matthew yet again, especially as his life was taken without the consequence of bringing life to another. It was a cruel accident. Matthew was taken too soon.

The sadness started to bubble in her stomach, leaching out into the rest of her body like ice water pulling all the warmth from her core. Mary saw him flash before her eyes, the look of absolute awe on his handsome face when he first saw his son. It was meant to be the moment that stayed with her and filled her with love for many years. Instead, it was the pinnacle and start of her unravelling. It was the moment that started the crumbling of her core. Not too long after that, they told her what had happened, and her heart shattered into a million pieces. Then she found herself at the bottom of the darkest and deepest crevice known to humanity, her whole body struggling to breach the top and carry on. That narrow slither of light at the top of the crevice was no longer as thin as a hair, it now resembled the width of her arm, the steps upward were hard, but she was trying.

Mary tried to distract herself as quickly as she could, turning to look back at the flowers she had been staring at before. They didn't look so inviting any more, a shadow sitting over them from the same tree the bird had flown into, like a shadow of the grim reaper himself. Sighing, she steadied herself and took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the tepid air until she couldn't take in any more. Then, slowly, she let the air out of her lungs as she tried to calm herself. What she had to do was not let this overwhelm her, and so she tried to move her thoughts to something different, something less painful and more inviting. Turning to look back at the hospital, she looked up at the windows and guided them across, wondering if any of them belonged to Carson. Nobody had explicitly said that she couldn't go and see him, so she decided she would go to him and see how he was. Since his waking she had not yet seen him, so she deemed this the perfect time. It felt normal somewhat, to seek comfort in him when she was unhappy. Of course, she didn't do that previously when she had needed to the most; a silly and costly mistake.

It didn't take long to ascend the stairs and reach his room, knowing without even thinking the way she needed to go. A nervous feeling fluttered in the pit of her stomach because she knew that this was the first time she had faced him whilst he was conscious after what had happened. Mary had to apologise to him, and she had to thank him for being there for her when she needed it most; like he always was. The conversation would not be the hardest she would have to have, because Carson was one of the most understanding people she knew. No, the conversation with her parents was the one that was causing her the most unease, but she was going to broach that when it came. It was hard to anticipate a conversation like that because it was hard to anticipate a person, and the actions that followed were going to be as unpredictable as the weather.

Peering around the doorway, Mary was pleased to see that Carson was awake. A few pillows were propping him up at an angle, the light from the window highlighted his face and it made her happy that the residue of his head injury seemed to be fading. The expression on his face was one of a deep concentration, his thick eyebrows were knotted together, and his lower lip was pushed out slightly as his eyes moved from side to side as he read the book in his hand. It was a warming sight for her to see, and she had been waiting avidly since she first stepped foot into his room; to see him awake and alert. There was a small vase at the side of his bed that was filled with an array of brightly coloured flowers. The flowers were arranged very nicely in Mary's opinion, the red flowers were the biggest, the petals wide and vast with smaller flowers cradling them from beneath. Mary wondered who had sent them. Casting her eyes over his face once more, she noticed that he had tried to flatten his hair to the side, like he always did, but there was a piece that didn't want to lie down. It was this little imperfection that made her smile because she could just picture his reaction if he knew that it was there; always needing everything to be in the correct place. Carson took in a deep breath and let out a sigh, shaking his head before closing the book at his current place. "Is it not very good?" Mary said as cheerily as she could, closing the gap between them as she crossed the room.

Carson's face, upon hearing her voice, lit up like a Christmas tree. The creases that had lined his brow from concentration, pushed themselves upwards as his face contorted into a happy state. The edges of his mouth moved outwards, pushing his cheeks into little balls as he smiled, his face truly reflecting the gladness at seeing her in the same room as him. "Oh, Lady Mary."

Mary could see that he was going to try and shift himself to get out of bed, to stand in front of her like he would in the home. "Stay where you are, Carson, please. Am I disturbing you?"

Carson ceased his movement and leant back into the pillows, gazing upon her face for signs of her well-being. "Of course not, Lady Mary. I will always make time for you, and I have an abundance of that at the moment."

Mary watched as he tried to flatten his nightclothes, clearly conscious that he was not in his usual state of dress; a little put out by the fact it seemed. "Now, please, tell me how you're feeling. I've been itching to come and see you since you began to stir. They ushered me out as quickly as they could."

"Well, My Lady, I'm feeling well-"

"You had a ghastly hit to the head, Carson, and have been unconscious for several days. I'd say that doesn't create the essence of wellness. Please, tell me." Mary sat still, watching eagerly as he formulated his answer.

Carson nodded. "Well, My Lady, I still have some pain and discomfort in my head. It's manageable as they've given me painkillers to help. Aside from that, and a few minor memory issues- nothing major- I'm feeling completely fine."

"Memory issues?" Mary felt her stomach flip at the words. This was her fault. What if this turned into a long-term issue? What if this prevented him from doing his job?

"Oh yes, My Lady, nothing major. There's just the odd thing that's a bit fuzzy in one's head, bits that don't seem to join but it isn't going to hinder me. Dr Clarkson says there is a slight possibility that it will never come back, but more often than not, it does over time. Nothing to worry about. Nothing that will impact my way of life."

Mary nodded, her whole attention on him. There was an unease within her when she thought that this could lead to anything that would impact him. It was important to her, so very important, that he be fine out of all of this. Not only because she was personally responsible for his current situation, but because she couldn't bear to think about being home without him there in her current state of mind. It was a little selfish in a way, she knew, but Carson belonged at Downton Abbey because he was the heart of the Abbey itself. Carson was like gravity, keeping the pieces firmly together as the world around the Abbey tried to pull it apart. "Are you missing it?"

"Missing what, My Lady?"

Mary smiled. "Missing being home."

Carson briefly cast his eye to the window, collecting his thoughts before returning himself to the room. "I'm not one to be idle, Lady Mary. I've spent most of my waking hours since I was a young boy being busy. I don't particularly enjoy having so much leisure time, so to speak, because I don't feel like I'm being useful."

"If it helps, Carson, having you here within the same walls as me, gathering your strength and getting better is useful. As silly as it sounds, I'm glad to have you close, to know I can come and see and talk to you without the hustle and bustle of the Abbey. You being here is useful because then I know you're on the mend." Mary turned and picked the book up off of the stand and looked at the writing on the spine, noticing that the book was most certainly a boring one. "I must get you something better to read. These flowers are beautiful, whoever sent them is very kind."

Carson watched as Mary lifted her hand to stroke down one of the big red petals, rubbing her finger along the surface before returning the book with her other hand to its original position. It was quite clear to Carson that she was a little preoccupied, a likely residue from what she had been through, but he wasn't going to press. "They're from the staff. They were delivered this morning. It's a lovely and well-appreciated gesture, My Lady."

"They're beautiful." Mary admired them for a few more moments before turning to look back at him. The creases that lined his eyes at the edges, the way his eyebrows fluffed out at the top, and the way his hair peppered at the sides all still present and accounted for. "I'm very glad you're on the mend, Carson. Very glad."

"It takes a lot to keep me down for long, Lady Mary." When their eyes met briefly Carson could see the unhappiness resting in her eyes like a beacon from a lighthouse. There was a smile on her lips, but her eyes were the ones telling the story. It was not the same level of uninhibited grief that plagued her in the woods, because that was something he would never forget. That grief and sadness were raw, unadulterated and burnt into the soul. No, this was much less severe than that. Carson was not stupid, and he knew that grief did not just evaporate like morning dew, and it would take time, a lot of time probably, to subside. Maybe that is what she meant by being glad that he was near? So she had someone to talk to? That idea filled him with pride. "I think you should concentrate on feeling better within yourself, My Lady. Gather your energy, take the time you need, be selfish in your time and do what makes you happy. It is the little joys in life that help you appreciate what you have, what you need and what you must live for."

"You've already gifted me with some semblance of that, Carson. You are right though, you always are, because I was thinking about that earlier. Since being in the hospital I've been able to take time away from the expectations that sit above my head on a day to day basis. I now know what I miss, what I don't miss and what I need less of. Things just seem so trivial sometimes, don't they? All those things that I worried about, made a space for at the forefront of my brain daily. And for what? It seems so ridiculous."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Lady Mary. It's all a matter of perspective. Time changes how we think, and it's not right to chide yourself on past thoughts and priorities. You can't change it, you can just learn from it."

"Another notion of sense, Carson. I suppose I just feel angry with myself for getting so caught up in it all when there were more important things to give my attention. All those times I got angry or annoyed with Matthew," she paused at the sound of his name. "When I could have done more with him, learnt from him and loved him more." Mary closed her eyes and exhaled forcefully. "I'm sorry, Carson. I should leave you to gather your strength."

Carson shook his head. "Please, My Lady. Do not trouble yourself with that." A nurse walked past with a trolley in the corridor, the clattering pulling them both from their thoughts. Carson took this time to look at Mary like a Father would, his mind going through how she looked, how she sat, how proud he was of how far she had come since the other night. "Are you well, My Lady?"

Mary fiddled with her fingers. "Oh, I don't even know where to start, in all honesty. I still struggle, more often than not. There is so much out there that reminds me of him. I look at the flowers, I look at the trees, I smell something in the air and then I'm transported to another time when he was still here. I get myself straight, and then suddenly it's there again like a fox to the rabbit. I miss him, more than words can express. I still can't believe this is real. I was just in the garden, marvelling at the way spring was coming, and then I saw something and it reminded me how he was ripped out of my grasp and it knocked me. That's when I thought I should come and see you because you always know how to make me feel better."

Carson leant forward, trying to bridge the gap between them. "Whatever you need, My Lady."

Mary smiled and shook her head. "I came here to offer you my gratitude and my thanks, but here I am talking about myself," she sighed. "I owe you so much. You risked yourself, you all risked yourselves, to find me. I had placed myself out there intending to make the pain go away. You found me, you persevered with me and helped me see through the mist that gripped me in a vice. You held me, you helped me see the bigger picture. You didn't push, you didn't make me feel worse for my actions, and you made sure that I was safe. I owe you for that. I want to say sorry, from the bottom of my heart, for having risked your life through my selfish actions. I want to say thank you for how you were with me, for how you always have been with me. Ever since I was a child, you've been there for me without me even asking. We are all so lucky to have you, Carson."

Carson smiled. It was that smile he had when he looked upon something he loved. The smile was pure, filled with pride, love and made his eyes thin like a letterbox. "Lady Mary. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. It is that strength that has you here today. It takes a lot to listen to the truth because often it's the truth that we do not want to hear. If you didn't have that resilience and strength in you, it wouldn't matter what words I spoke to you. You have a core of iron, My Lady. I will always be here to help wherever I can, but you must realise just what you are made of yourself. Mr Crawley saw through everything; he saw what lay beneath and that is what he loved. Grief is like a toxin, and it can knock down the greatest walls, and so it is important to build them back up. You'll get there, over time, and I will be there until you feel yourself once more. I will be there. Always."

Mary laughed a little as the tears began to free-fall down her face. "I don't deserve you, Carson. You always know how to pick me up."

Carson smiled, happy to be having a positive impact on her. It moved him a little, a small ball sitting high in his throat that he tried with great urgency to swallow away. "I am glad that I can be of some use, My Lady."

Mary reached out and placed her hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze before returning it to her lap. "There's something I wanted to ask you whilst I am here."

Carson placed his hands at either side and pushed himself upwards, giving her the respect and attention that she deserved. "Please, My Lady, if there is anything I can help with."

Mary reached into her pocket and pulled out the envelope with Carson's name on. "I've been thinking about what I could remember about being in the woods, and I remember telling you whilst you were unconscious that I had written you a letter, and if I ever got the chance I would give it to you. Anna kindly brought them to me, and I've been keeping them safe until I feel it's the right time to share them. I might not share them all, I'm not sure yet. I know that some people will think that I should destroy them because they were written when I was not myself and speak truths that people will likely not want to know. I think that they hold the truth because I was uninhibited in my words as I feared no repercussions. I am going to stick true to my word and share this with you because the words are far more eloquent than what I could verbally express right now. When you are better, and we are both home, I am going to give this to you. I've thought about it, and although it'll pain me, I'm also going to explain to you why that particular place in the woods means so much to me. You saved me, Carson, and I want to be able to explain my actions to you. I owe you that."

"My Lady, you do not owe me anything," Carson said firmly.

"Oh, but I do. I really do. Once we are both home though, Carson." Mary lowered her head and gave him a look so he knew that there was no room for leeway.

Carson's lips lifted at the corners. "Well, Lady Mary, I will be honoured."

Mary stood herself up and tucked the letter back into her pocket. When she left her room she always took them with her, wary of leaving them to be found by someone. They were just a little too intimate to be read by anyone but the intended recipient. Just being here with Carson and talking to him about how she was had made her feel a little better, a small weight had lifted from her shoulders and chest. "I better let you get some rest. I'll get Papa to dig something out for you and send it down with Mrs Hughes."

Upon hearing the name of his colleague, he perked up a little, tilting his head at the unusual placement of her name. Was she going to be coming down to see him? That would be a lovely thing if she was. It would mean he could get an update on what is going on at the house, and ultimately see if she was ok. The unusual feeling he had upon seeing her so broken in his dream hadn't left him. As he had so much time on his hands, he had thought about her a lot more than he probably should have. It was a pleasant reprieve from the standard decor of a hospital room, her bright twinkling eyes looking back at him, sucking him in as they did. "Mrs Hughes, My Lady?"

"Yes," Mary confirmed with a puzzled look on her face. "Has she not been down yet?"

Carson felt very confused. It hadn't dawned on him that she had planned on coming down to see him. Had he missed the message? Was something the matter? Did she need his advice? "No, My Lady. Should she have?"

Mary felt a little perplexed. Mrs Hughes had been down almost every night. Now, when he was awake she hadn't been to see him. The worry that Mary had seen in her eyes had been unmistakable. Nightly, like clockwork almost, she had been there and sat by his side. "Perhaps she's been busy. Almost every evening, once she had finished for the night, she would come here and stay with you. Then she would leave in the early hours to get back up to the house before the day started again. I'm sure she's very eager to see you now that you're awake, so I just anticipated that she would be down soon enough for me to get you a replacement book. Oh, I'll arrange something," Mary said positively, clasping her hands together. "I'll come and see you again tomorrow."

Carson smiled whilst his mind tinkered over the current information to hand. "Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you, Lady Mary."

Mary nodded and left the room. Carson let his mind process the words that she had spoken. Mrs Hughes had been here almost every night, by his side, after a long days work doing both of their roles. Not only that, but she had stayed until the morning before going off to do it all again. That showed great determination and care, almost, for him. This was not something that he had at all expected. Carson assumed that it was going to be awfully busy at the house, the normal daily routines and jobs being thoroughly executed and arranged by Mrs Hughes' keen eye for detail. It was not necessarily going to be an easy job to maintain, but he had faith that she would do it. There was a warm feeling in his stomach, his brain working through various scenarios as to why she would spend so much of her well deserved rest time with him. Of course, they were friends, but this seemed a little more than that. Was he just reaching? Was he making up something that he had craved for so long? As content as he had admitted to himself at being in her company, and as co-workers, it never really dawned on him that potentially it could be something more than that. "Oh, calm yourself, Mr Carson," he chided, trying to keep his thoughts at bay. "You're probably overthinking the whole situation." Perhaps Lady Mary had exaggerated what she had witnessed? It was innocent, no doubt, and that's what he kept saying over and over in his head. It didn't matter though, how many times he said it, there was this warm ball of hope within him now that made him question his stance in her eyes. Had he missed something that could have been so obvious? He had planned on continuing the book, no matter how drab, but he would never be able to concentrate on it now, there were too many things to dwell on. Mr Carson, for the first time in a long while, felt nervous. It was as if a box of butterflies had erupted within him, and they were fuelled by the image of her, as perfect as anything that he had ever laid eyes on. "Oh, Mrs Hughes," he whispered, before turning his attention to the window, his mind lost in thoughts of her once more.


	21. Chapter 21

**A little interlude whilst the muse was hot :) Thank you so much for all your support. I hope you are all keeping safe during this difficult time.**

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Mrs Hughes had been staring up at her bedroom ceiling for at least three hours, tracing the imperfections with her gaze and trying to ignore the knots in her stomach. In tandem with the churning in her gut, her heart was racing at an abnormal rate, fuelled completely by her thoughts and fears. The day had been busy, and so she had had been able to keep her mind occupied, for the most part, trying to keep herself afloat and on top of the jobs that needed completing. Due to having so much to do she had not been able to make it to the hospital as she had planned. This delay in seeing him had made her feel very nervous because although she knew that he was now awake, it felt like she hadn't seen him for so long and knew what was about to come. When she thought about her situation, a deep-rooted fear reared its ugly head, reminding her about the conversation that was potentially going to unfold with him. The fear fluctuated between the realisation that she was going to have to verbalise her true feelings towards him, but also the potential that he would reject them, both notions equally as terrifying. This conversation was going to be intimate, exposing and would leave her open to potential criticism and refusal.

Mrs Hughes, although somewhat a radical in comparison to Mr Carson, did not particularly like leaping into the unknown. Generally, what placated her about her job was that it was seemingly easy to predict, and her skills enabled her to deal with and manage most situations. There were times when they experienced something out of the ordinary, that threw a spanner in the works and made for a difficult day. However, generally, the house followed a generally obvious pattern, and they could anticipate what was going to happen with ease. The house was currently not following that course of transparency, and so, the unnerved feeling was intensified by that and the leap into the unknown that her conversation was going to be with Carson. Working in her role, some people helped her with the tasks, but this conversation was something she was going to have to do alone and be dictated by the choices of another.

When Mrs Hughes had climbed into her bed, her legs and body weary from the days before, her eyes felt heavy enough for sleep to arrive without a fight. When her eyelids closed, like iron weights had pulled them down, the first thing that came to her mind was Carson's face. Usually, as she drifted off, she thought about him, but this time it made her heart race, reminding her of what was potentially going to unfold. Those weights that kept her eyelids down released almost instantly, and her lids shot upwards so she was faced with her bedroom ceiling. The thoughts in her mind seemed to climb aboard a runaway train, gaining speed and momentum with absolutely no let-up in sight. Occasionally, they veered off into a different direction, but they always were about the same particular subject. When she played out the conversation in her head, over and over, the way she told him was different but each time the result was the same; Carson turning her down. As she tried to rationalise it in her head, she knew that it was the rejection that she feared the most. When your brain taunted you with this, the path of the vision ultimately would be hampered by those fears, and she struggled to break that cycle and show what might happen if he reciprocated. Mrs Hughes knew that her life had never resulted in positivity, her previous years marred by loss and pain, and so it was hard for her to anticipate happiness as being the result of her endeavours. Carson rejecting her feelings would be like putting a nail into her coffin, her final shot at happiness blocked off and the rest of her life spent alone. This thought had become an accepted idea in her mind previously, having been alone for most of her life, she had come to terms with it. Then, out of nowhere, Carson moved his way into her heart without any warning, and she had suddenly had something to wake up for. Someone to wake up for. Of course, she had resigned herself in some respects to never really having him as her own, but just having him by her side day after day was enough. Then, this had happened and her whole world was on the edge of turning into something wonderful or accepting what she had thought for all those years instead.

Feelings and emotions were the key facets of how your life unfolded. The way they made you feel when they were good was amazing, but then equally as dire when they did not. They made you overthink, overreact, second guess yourself and even hate yourself for feeling them in the first place. How had she ended up here? How had she amassed such strong, wonderful and horrendous feelings? Especially at her age? At this point in her life, she should be thinking about winding down and sorting out her retirement. Instead, she felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to take that leap, and the only person that could save her from the ghastly pit at the bottom was Carson. It was unsettling, feeling so open and vulnerable, and even more so when she hadn't had the conversation yet. There was so much resting on it that it was taking over her whole thinking capacity.

What would she do if he did reject her? How could she go about her day when she knew that he didn't feel the same? He would feel awkward, and possibly bad about not reciprocating, but Carson being Carson he would swallow it and carry on doing his job like before. Would she potentially have to move on and work somewhere else? Could she keep herself level enough to stay in her current job and not ache horrendously every time she looked at him? To know she would have to look at him, a one-sided mirror with the feelings bouncing back at her and hitting her square in the heart every single day. That runaway train kept on thrashing the rails, her heart in her chest, beating hard and fast on the tip of a blade, ready to fall and break when he told her no.

Most people, when they talk about love, can envision the first time their heart was punctured by cupid's arrow. A lot of the stories she had heard were fraught with romantic gestures, lightbulb moments and reciprocated actions and emotions that amassed into a happy relationship. Some people say that they knew straight away, that the person they looked upon was the one that they were going to marry and love. Mrs Hughes had not experienced this, and it felt like a distant cousin of the stories she read in books. The first time she saw him, he was stood steadfast at the rear of the Abbey, his hawk-like gaze rested on her and she knew instantly that he was judging her by her appearance. The hair on his head was jet black and slicked to the side in the same way it was now, the grey speckled patches erased by youth and a thickness that was lacking now he was older. The skin on his face was tighter than it was now, his cheeks fuller and firmer. The one thing that hadn't changed was his eyes, which were framed by his large thick eyebrows, a glistening which shone out from below their fluffy course mounds. It had dawned on her that he was a handsome fellow, well built, tall and he had a presence about him like a concrete giant, but that was it. In the beginning, they hadn't particularly got on in the first instance, their personalities clashing over the way things were done. Mr Carson was inherently stuck on the learnings of his predecessor, fixated on having things done in that particular way and not deviating from it. In contrast, Mrs Hughes had her way of doing things, and so they butted heads more often than not. Over time, their personalities began to soften at the edges, like the sharp edges of rocks until the flow of the stream worn them down until they were smooth. They began talking more in the evenings, they would often do things that would benefit the other, their lives becoming synergistic and intertwined as colleagues.

Mrs Hughes remembered the first time she saw him for who he was, the man that had won her heart and had taken it like a thief in the night with no warning. The house was quiet, the family had gone off to London, so only a few of them remained. They had begun the routine of getting the house cleaned and maintained, the jobs that were best done when there were fewer people within the walls. On a warm summers evening, the air outside arid and still, they were all exhausted as the heat had sapped their energy like a leach. As Mrs Hughes sat at the table, her bowl full and steaming, she had caught herself gazing at him as he ate his food. It was too warm outside for stew, but the food cupboards were running on basic rations whilst the family were away, so making a stew was the easiest food to make. It was simple and hearty. The staring she had found herself doing wasn't just an idle gaze, she was marvelling at his handsome face, looking at him and taking stock in everything that made his face whole. Just staring at him had left her feeling warm and content, like after eating a full meal, although not a morsel of food had touched her lips. A fuzzy wholesome feeling cascaded through her body, and she sighed, her stomach twisting into knots as she stared without breaking her gaze. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him. When he took a spoonful of stew, he briefly looked up and their eyes met. It felt like she was going to explode with pride and love, the butterflies wreaking havoc inside like little fire demons. It was not a normal tale of romance, with fawning over each other or having a locked gaze over a romantic picnic. No, she realised at that moment that she loved him whilst he was sat sipping stew at the servants dining table in Downton Abbey with not an ounce of reasoning. There had been no romantic gesture, there had been no obvious signs of build-up. Instead, it hit her square in the chest, the feelings simple, unadulterated, pure and powerful. That evening she never ate a single ounce of food, her body consumed by what she felt.

A few hours after that she had walked into his pantry to have their usual evening chat, out of habit and need more than a requirement. Mrs Hughes remembered feeling tense, unnerved and even scared about what she had realised and felt. It had left her feeling sick to her stomach. It troubled her and terrified her that he would be able to tell what she was feeling because she could barely admit it to herself let alone him. When she sat down in his pantry, he looked at her with furrowed brows and said to her _'Are you well, Mrs Hughes? I noticed you didn't touch your dinner this evening. I was concerned you were feeling a little off._' Mrs Hughes felt her heart bulge at the notion that he cared enough to ask, but then she reeled herself back in, because he did that out of courtesy and also because of her position in the home. It had temporarily made her wonder if he had felt something for her because she seemed to sense that his voice was different, that it was more caring. That's when she knew she was looking for something that potentially wasn't there, filling in gaps to make her feel better about what was happening. The weeks, months and years that followed were an uphill climb. It was always a pleasure to be in his company, but she knew her place in the home, and so she teetered just behind the line that she hadn't dared to cross.

Everything that had been between them was going to reach its pinnacle tomorrow because that was when she was going to see him. This was where it was going to start or end. It was D-Day. The constant turmoil and worry about what was going to happen would not end until she let it all out. The realisation that he could have died without ever knowing how she felt had torn her heart open, letting so much emotion leak from within that she hadn't been able to bear it. It was better to get it out there, because no matter how much stress and pain it could potentially cause, it was better than it never being released. Mrs Hughes would pick herself up like she always did if the ending was not what she wanted.

Sleep was not going to come, she had realised, and so she knew she had to make use of herself or she would think herself into a pit. Sitting up, she ran her hands over her face and then pulled the covers off of her body. The cool air washed over her instantly, and she grabbed her dressing gown and got up. After a quick wash and change, she was going to start her day hours prematurely, attempting to get ahead of herself so she could get to the hospital in good time. It would be catastrophic, after all the build-up, for him to be asleep when she got there, because she knew that if he was she wouldn't have the strength to wake him.

'_You can do this, Elsie, you can do this.' _


	22. Chapter 22

_**Hello! Sorry for the delay. Work has been horrendous over the past few weeks. My days have been long and I've not had a great deal of free time to actually get anything written. I made a goal to get it completed this weekend, and I'm glad that I came through in the end. I hope you're all keeping well :) I hope you enjoy it! It's quite a long one. **_

* * *

Tom climbed out of the car and straightened himself out, pulling his jacket downwards to flatten any creases that had amassed during his drive down. The weather was very pleasant, and it had been the first time in a few months that he had ventured outside without his heavy overcoat. There was a tepid warmth in the breeze that brought about the reminiscence of summer, peeping out from behind the cold barrier of winter that was keeping it momentarily at bay. People spent a bit more time outside now, going for walks through the hills, around the village and they seemed much chirpier. It was nice, because sometimes as it had in Ireland, the winter months seemed to drag on longer than any other season. Summer itself was like a camera flash, you see it, sometimes feel it, but in the blink of an eye, it's gone. Tom didn't complain though, really, because when it got too hot he would much rather be in the shade, his pale Irish complexion making the sunlight difficult. When it did get hot he often found going for a drive, the wind flowing over his hot body, cooled him down when he needed it most. In times like that he would often volunteer to go out and run errands. Today was one of those days, without that summer heat, where he had volunteered to pop down to the village to pick something up. As he was down there he was going to go and check in on Mary, having not been able to get down to see her since she was taken there. Well, he had suggested almost straight away that he would like to see her but Cora and Robert had said to wait for a while until she was a bit better. Tom knew himself just how painful it was, so thought it would have been nice to have someone that was able to follow her train of thought a little closer, to know that she wasn't alone.

There wasn't much of a queue in the post office, so it didn't take long for him to get the items that he had to collect. If he had thought about his order of things, it would probably have been better to go get them after his visit so he could go straight home with them, rather than carrying them around. It didn't matter greatly though, so he tucked them under his arm and made his way towards the hospital, stopping to say hello to a few of the villagers as he did. It had taken a while, but people greeted him and respected him more now, but it was still taking a little getting used to.

When he entered the hospital, the parcels boring into his underarm, he was pointed in the right direction by a middle-aged nurse who offered to help with the load. Tom could manage well enough so he climbed the stairs and made his way along the corridor. Tom never did like how hospitals smelled, the thick acidic odour of antiseptic always seemed to burn his nose. No matter how often he entered one, there was always an eerie feeling in the air that made him feel a bit on edge. Hospitals bought with them life and death, and it was that notion, he assumed, that made them uncomfortable to be in.

When he walked into the room, he tried with all of his might to remain as upbeat as he could. It was difficult to force, but he plastered a wide smile over his face to try and give some sort of illusion that the world was somewhere good to be. Of course, he knew he didn't really need to, because Mary wasn't stupid, and would likely see right through it. It was important to try and be some sort of positive influence, and so this seemed to be the first way to start it. When he caught sight of her he was pleasantly surprised to find her sat by the window, the sun covering her as it shone through the window. In her hand was a book, that she had clearly been reading for a relatively decent amount of time because she was well over halfway through the hardback. It had dawned on him that he had almost anticipated her to be in bed, a morose expression on her face and in a state of wallow. That was how she had been the last time he had seen her, the spirit that had driven her for so long had dwindled into nothing. The depression had been strong, the guilt raging around her with force, and all her energy sapped by the grief. This state was good.

"Mary!" he called out, placing the parcels onto the table near the doorway. "I was just in the village and thought I would come and see how you were doing."

Mary had been reading solidly for at least three hours, the book had drawn her right into its pages. The story was riveting, and had taken her by complete surprise. Initially the story was nothing special, but it had taken the time away from her when she got involved with it. Then, suddenly, she had found herself completely invested in the characters and where the story was going. It had been nice to absorb herself in something outside of her little world. Even going outside of the hospital was still a part of her own little story, so this was something completely apart from that. Closing the book, she got to her feet and smiled. It was lovely to see her friend and brother-in-law. "Oh, Tom, how lovely!"

Tom gripped a nearby chair in his hands and carried it with him, placing it directly in front of her. "I'm sorry I've not been down to see you yet. I've been busy with your Father, and they thought it best that we give you some time before flooding you with our presence." Tom smirked, before taking his jacket off and folding it into his lap. "I thought it would have been nice for you to have a friendly face days ago, but I respected their wishes. It was a lovely day out and I had to pop in to pick some parcels up," he said, motioning to the pile on the table. "I thought today would be a good day to say hello. We could go for a walk in the garden if you'd like? Get you out for a bit? You must be bored of being inside the same four walls."

Mary placed the book onto the nearby window ledge and sat back down. "Oh, it's quite OK. I'm happy to stay inside today if I'm honest. I did go out into the garden yesterday but I'm feeling a little lethargic having been awake on and off all night. I fear my rhythm is quite adrift to its normal routine. Anyway, Tom, I'm very glad to see you! You would have been more than welcome to come down sooner, if you had wished to. I know my parents meant well, but I am more than capable of making my mind," she sniffed, feeling a little put out by her parent's decisions. "I know they meant well, and I suppose in a way they have every right to considering my actions. I had wondered why it had only been a select few that had been down. I would have liked to have a say at least." Mary paused and shook her head. "I have to say it has been nice to be away from home but I have always got time for you, Tom."

Tom could feel the warmth from the sun as it shone through the glass and onto him, understanding why Mary had placed herself by the window. Mary had always been kind to him, and out of everyone, it always seemed like she was the one that fought in his corner the most since Sybil passed. Tom knew that he would never fit in completely because there was so much inside of him that fought against the very life that he was now living. The love of his life had saved him from so much, but now he faced this alien terrain without her. The spirit within him naturally gravitated to his previous life, and this made him feel like he would never accept his current life as his own because he was not born into it.

Tom had always found that Mary had a similar way of thinking to him, and she took stock in the things that he had to say. He wasn't just an ex-chauffeur to her. If there was ever a time where things were being said that required intervention, she would stand up for him when things turned a little sour. Tom had a lot of time for his sister-in-law. Sybil had always spoken highly of her, as she did of so many, and she used to tell him to ignore the barrier that Mary hid behind. Inside her, she was very loving and protective, and he had seen that now and witnessed it for himself. It made him sad that Sybil wasn't present, because he knew that she would have worked wonders with Mary in this current situation. Sybil was kind, intuitive, balanced and pure; qualities so few people possessed any more. If she had had to move into Mary's room until she was better, there would not have been a single shred of hesitation. Without Sybil, Carson had been the next best thing, and he had tried that avenue. From what he had gathered, their interaction had been quite abrupt and brutal; Mary throwing her weight into the mix. Everyone knew that Carson only wanted what was best for her like a Father did, and so he had taken it quite badly when the conversation had gone so harsh. There had been a sadness in his eyes for many days afterwards, and Tom had felt guilty that he had put him through that.

Tom fiddled with the lapel on his jacket, watching as Mary took a glance to the window before bringing herself back to the room. When their eyes met she smiled, distance still sitting in her gaze. The pain was still visible for everyone to see, and he knew more than any that it would never truly go away. The twinkle in her eyes, that he had grown to know as the fire that kept her moving forward, was almost absent now. It was not gone though, not completely. Tom knew what it felt like to lose the love of his life, to feel the excruciating agony of having her ripped from his world like a page from a book. Sybil was the part of him that he would never get back. There seemed to be a bit more about Mary now. In comparison to when he had last seen her, she seemed better, not by huge lengths but it was a start.

"How are you doing? Really?" Tom queried, knowing it was a silly question. There was no point beating around the bush though.

Mary sighed and turned her attention to the bracelet on her wrist, twisting at it gently between her fingers. Since she had been kindly gifted the bracelet, she had found herself touching it more often than not. It was like a physical reminder of the love and generosity that Matthew had possessed. "I feel like I've been asked that question a lot," she grimaced. "I don't ever feel like the answer is ever enough when I give it. It's not something that's easily explained."

Tom nodded his head in agreement, feeling a pang of guilt and regret. "I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about it then that's fine. We can talk about whatever you want!"

"Oh, come now, Tom. Don't be silly. I know you're just being kind. It's fine. You're just worried as a friend should be, and I appreciate that. Truly." Mary fidgeted slightly in her seat before releasing the bracelet from her grasp and returning her gaze to Tom. If there was anyone who really did understand her, it would be him. "I feel like I have a bit more...direction? I'm not free of it, not by any stretch of the imagination. It's still there trying to drag me down, holding onto me like a vice and preventing me from coming up for air. I hate feeling this way, but what I hate more than anything, Tom, is that I never want to be free of him. I never want to forget him. If I must be without him, and as painful as it feels, I never want him to go from in here." Mary lifted her hand and pressed it against her chest. "I hate feeling this way, Tom. I hate it more than anything."

Tom could feel his hands tense against each other as he thought about the way he had felt when Sybil had passed. There had been so much time spent agonising over how terrified he was about moving forward and away from her. It all resonated with him so strongly that he didn't quite know how to displace the small ball of sadness that had appeared within him. When Sybil had died he had been completely consumed by the grief. It was in his mind and it was in his heart. Every single breath and heartbeat was filled with the loss for her, and for a long period of time, he never thought he would be able to climb out of the hole he lay in. It had been a daily battle that he had fought pretty much on his own. "I'd like to tell you that it gets better and it gets easier. In some respects it does. You can bring yourself above the mist long enough to take a breath, and then slowly it becomes two breaths. There is no time limit on this, Mary, so please don't berate yourself for not feeling better so soon. Grief is like a shadow. If you look at the world around you, you'll see them everywhere. Some days the shadows are darker, and others they aren't. You will never forget him. You will never not love him. Matthew is there in you, and he always will be."

Mary stared at him with sympathetic eyes, hearing the words with a newfound appreciation. If she had heard all of this before Matthew had died, she would not have understood as strongly as she did now. Tom had been through all of this when their darling Sybil had been taken. Tom's whole world had been plucked from him in the blink of an eye. Mary felt incredibly disappointed in herself and by her actions when Tom had been going through this. What she knew was that she had not been there for him, and by how she felt, she had no idea how he had coped at all on his own. "I'm so sorry, Tom," she whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. "This must bring back that horrible time in your life."

Tom smiled. "It's fine, Mary. I just want you to know that I understand what it is that you're going through. The crippling pain and sadness that feeds your waking moments like a poison. I tried to push it away but it's like trying to move a fifty-tonne boulder with your bare hands. Sybil was my world, and I would give anything to have her back here with us now. I know people thought that she was too good for me, and God knows they're probably right, but we were happy. I loved her with everything. You knew your sister and you know she had the purest heart and the warmest ways about her. Sybil gave her everything in all that she did." Tom could feel his heart burn with pride at the thought of his wife and just how amazing she was. "Sybil gave me the will to move on. Not only was she beautiful and kind, she also refused to give up on anything that she loved or cared for. God, she was stubborn," he grinned, knowing that her love for him was one of the most stubborn acts of them all. "I could not give up because Sybil would not have given up."

Mary thought back to her sister and her wonderful ways. A light chuckle escaped her lips. "Yes, she was stubborn. I still remember Papa's rage when it all kicked off with you."

Tom felt quite pleased with himself for getting Mary to chuckle, even though it was only slight. The fondness in her eyes evaporated quickly, and he knew that she had gone back to thinking of Matthew. "You are strong, Mary. You have that Crawley core of iron in there. It's the same core that has kept the Dowager steadfast in her ways for all of these years. It's the same core that now has me as your brother-in-law! What I think will help, and don't place this against me or see me as interfering, is George. Little Sybbie was my saviour. When I looked at her I could see Sybil looking back at me, and I knew I had to protect her and keep her safe. I couldn't leave that to anyone else. I had to do it. That child holds the same radiating energy as her Mother, and I need to do everything in my power to give her everything Sybil ever wanted. I knew I wasn't keeping myself alive for me. I was doing it for Sybbie and Sybil. I have days, more than I care to admit, where I struggle to shake it. So I go and see little Sybbie and she soothes my heart and grounds me."

Mary's eyes welled up as she felt the words sting at her already beaten heart. "How wonderfully poignant, Tom. It seems that you and Carson have both tried to point me onto similar paths."

"Well, Carson only wants what's best for you. It's what we all want."

Mary sighed sadly. "I know, Tom. I know. I am now more aware of how hard it must have been for you like it is for me at the moment." Mary could see the sadness bouncing back at her, it was a look she hadn't been able to pinpoint before now. There were so many similarities between them both, so many parallels that she hadn't taken much notice of before. This lead her to thinking about the ultimate question, the one that would see if their parallels had lead to the same path without her noticing before. "Tom?"

Tom nodded.

"Did you..." Mary exhaled, trying to think about how to phrase the question. "Did you ever want it to end? To really end?"

To anyone else that might be listening nearby, they would potentially be confused by the question. Tom knew exactly what she meant. Tom knew exactly what she meant, and he couldn't lie to her. There had been many moments where he had wished with all his might for the pain to stop. There had been other moments, the darker ones, when he had contemplated a way to actually make it stop. "I did. I thought about it more than I care to admit. I drank a lot. I isolated myself and pushed myself further away from the people that could help me. You all reminded me of her, because although you may not know it, you have similarities. That, and she did love you all. Moving away from you was one of the hardest things she could possibly have ever done, and she did that for me. This world is not for me, Mary, and I will never really connect with this life. When Sybil was taken I felt even more alienated from you all because she was not there to back me up and guide me through this aristocratic circus show. I felt like this life meant being in a constant parade and hiding behind a façade of dinners and tea parties. I was breaking on the inside, but we were all still sitting down for dinner in the evening. It didn't make sense to me. The long and short of it was, yes, I did want it to end. I thought about ways, I let the poison overtake my thoughts and was going to drink myself into a stupor and finish it."

"But you didn't, Tom, and thankfully you're still here to navigate through the obstacles in our path." Mary felt a lot closer to Tom now because it was as if the loss was a similarity between them that she hadn't realised properly before now. "What made it better for you?"

"People made it better, Mary. You must accept the help that people want to offer you because if we can't rely on ourselves to do it, it's other people that can help us out. You will walk through your life and be in a constant state of reminder of what it was that was taken from you. You will see it in the smallest and most insignificant things. It'll baffle you and upset you that you can relate the smallest of unconnected things to him. It'll be in the air around you, the carpet under your feet or the direction of the wind. What's important is that you remember that we are here to help you. I know you know that too, Mary. I also know that when you're head is in a certain place it's impossible to see through the fog and to reach out to the people who want to help you. I want you to know that I will give you whatever support you need. You are Sybil's sister, and you are also my friend."

Mary could feel herself getting emotional as she traversed through the various thoughts and feelings circulating within her body. There was an ounce of happiness at the fact that Tom had reached out to her like he had, but there was also the sadness associated with the thoughts that got them there. They had lost Sybil and Matthew to this cruel and unforgiving world. "Thank you, Tom." Mary paused and swallowed hard, thinking back to the time when Sybil had been taken and how she hadn't noticed that he had been in dire need of some friendship and support. "I have been frightfully stupid, I fear, and I know now more than ever that I have been a terrible friend to you. All those months I could see that you were in pain, but I didn't reach out to offer the support as you have done to me. I understand it now. I understand it painfully, the horror and sadness that you went through. I'm naturally selfish, Tom, and it's a habit I don't think I'll ever truly shake. I know I should have done more for you. I can't believe I let you go through this agony alone. I'm horrified. Will you forgive me?"

"Please, Mary, don't think about that. There is nothing at all to forgive. I did an excellent job of keeping myself out of everyone's way. You weren't to know, how could you? You were all dealing with grief at the exact same time, and it's amazing as to what forms that it can take. I think they call it, tunnel vision. I just want you to know that I can sympathise and help you if you ask for it. I didn't speak to many people, because it was hard, but I wasn't completely alone. Mrs Hughes did a lot of things in the background that you're probably not aware of. It was obvious I wasn't eating much, so every night when you were all in bed she would make sure that food was sent up for me. Easy things to eat. At first, I didn't bother, because I wasn't hungry, but her persistence paid off. She was good to me."

"That's good to hear. It appears friendship doesn't stop like you would expect when there is a change of social class. I suppose it's like me and Carson. We are friends and yet he serves the household." Mary's brain had started ticking through some ideas in her head. It was obvious that there was much more to Mrs Hughes than her role, and it was silly of her to assume otherwise. There was certainly something more to the woman. Perhaps Tom knew if Carson's relationship with her was something other than people that run a home. "I'm hearing more about Mrs Hughes as the days go by."

"Mrs Hughes is a good woman, Mary, once you get to know her. Not only is she kind, but she's fair and understands a lot because of her life. You just have to get through the thick outer layer, a bit like yourself." Tom smirked. There weren't many people who had helped him as much as she had, and he appreciated the friendship that they had.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied wryly, adjusting herself in her seat. "I suppose I've never interacted with her a great deal over the years. I always thought she didn't like me. I don't think you're the only one that thinks so positively of her though."

"What do you mean?" Tom queried, finding the last part a little unusual that the conversation had focused on Mrs Hughes of all people. "I don't know that Mrs Hughes doesn't like you if that's any consolation. I think that perhaps she doesn't understand you."

Mary nodded. Their conversation had been so serious before, it seemed trivial and off-key to try and talk about the interactions of Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson off of the back of it. The idea intrigued her so much though. If there was something in this world that could make Carson happy, for all that he has done for her, then she wanted to know. "Forgive me for going off on a tangent, Tom, but I've been wondering about this for a few days. I certainly think there is more to Mrs Hughes than I first thought."

"Well, this sounds rather cryptic if I'm honest." Tom scrunched his eyebrows together as he tried to figure out what it was that Mary was getting at. It was true that they didn't talk often, and rarely came into contact with each other, so it made no sense as to why she would be the topic of conversation.

"I'm sorry." Mary paused and wondered if she should ask. After all, Tom used to interact with them all in a different way than Mary ever could. Although he transcended between the role of chauffeur to brother-in-law, he still had knowledge in what it was that could be between her darling Carson and Mrs Hughes. "Can you help me find logic in my thoughts, Tom? And keep this to yourself?"

"Of course! I came here to tell you that you can always talk to me."

"It's not about me, Tom," she confirmed, turning her head to the window as she tried to place her thoughts into a logical order. "When you worked downstairs- and forgive me for bringing it up- did you ever notice if Carson and Mrs Hughes were closer than your average pair that work together?"

"Well, they are good friends," he hesitated as he sized up her words in more detail. "They have worked together for many years and I'd say they were very good friends."

Mary nodded. "I understand that. I don't mean as friends though, Tom," she paused and raised her eyebrows to try and force the point into his mind. "Oh, I don't think I could have this conversation with anyone else without sounding silly. I might be able to with Anna, but I don't know if she would want to be open about it. It's just..."

Tom leant forward in his chair and put his hands between his knees. "The anticipation is getting to me, Mary. What is it you're trying to say."

Mar cleared her throat and looked over Tom's shoulder to make sure that there wasn't anyone floating around outside the corridor. The people that worked in the hospital all knew Carson, and they all held him in high regard, so she didn't want to create gossip. The family knew how quickly gossip made its way around the village if it was ever released or created. "When Carson was waking up," she said through hushed tones. "He called out Mrs Hughes' first name. It took me a minute to even realise it was her. I'm not used to hearing it. Anyway," she paused, her eyes growing wider. "He called out Elsie."

Tom looked puzzled. This didn't seem like something that required the hushed tones. "They're good friends and spend an awful lot of time together. They're like the closest thing that each of them has to family, I suppose."

"You do know that Mrs Hughes has been coming down to be by his bedside almost every single evening. I know friends can be close, but she has been working all day and spending her evenings here with hardly any rest. I think that seems like they're very *close*." Mary began to get frustrated about the fact that he wasn't getting her point. It had her wondering whether she was looking too far into it herself, but then she dismissed the idea because she knew what she had seen.

Tom laughed. "Friends care for each other. She probably doesn't want him being alone."

Mary let out a sigh, folding her arms across her waist. This was painstaking. At this rate, she was just going to have to come out and say it, which was what she didn't want to do. "When Carson was unconscious, I had an encounter with Mrs Hughes. I know she is angry with me, and I fully accept that. I left her to spend time with him, but I have to say that I felt a little curious about something. So, I held back and peered back into the room. I admit it, I spied on her. Anyway, she bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I was very shocked!" Mary waited for a reaction out of Tom, who just continued to stare at her, his expression unfaltering. "I think they care for each other more than we think." Mary waited again, and Tom blinked as he titled his head to the side. "Like you did for Sybil."

Tom's eyes grew wide and he leant back into his chair, the penny dropping to the floor. "Really? You mean they *care* for each other? You really think so?"

"Tom, I've been trying to tell you that for the past few minutes. They have to! Carson called out for her. Mrs Hughes has been essentially burning the candle at both ends to make sure that he wasn't alone, and the kiss on the cheek! I was hoping you might agree with the logic, or help me see some sort of sense in what I'm thinking. You spent time with them downstairs, so assumed you might have some sort of insight into my thinking."

Tom looked up at the ceiling as he tried to piece his thoughts together. Could they? Really? "It's never been mentioned-"

"Well, why would it? Considering their positions within the house would you expect them to be so open about it? Would it be proper? If I'm honest, I want more than anything for Carson to just be happy. I'm not sure what Papa would think. I just wondered if it was something that you had noticed. It'll be the little things that people would likely not notice unless you were really looking for them."

"Truth be told, I don't recall anything. They obviously talk a lot, spend their evenings talking each night but nothing I've ever noticed. What a bizarre thought. Not something I thought I would be thinking about after my visit. I thought perhaps we would just talk about what's going on at the Abbey or about how you were doing." Tom shook his head in bewilderment.

"It surprised me, Tom, to think such thoughts," Mary smirked ever so slightly. "I assume everything is going on as usual at home? Or has Edith grown horns and wings and floated off to a distant land?"

Tom chuckled. "No. She has been frightfully preoccupied recently with something. I take it she hasn't been one of your select visitors?"

"If I were at death's door, I think she would only come up here if Mama made her," Mary insisted. "You know we aren't close, Tom."

Tom shook his head. "I don't think you give your sister much credit, Mary. There's a goodness in her somewhere."

Mary shook her head. "Credit is earned, Tom. I know my sister. Sybil was the kind one. I'm the stubborn head-strong Crawley sister. Edith is just Edith," she scoffed.

The pair of them sat in momentary silence. Tom was now going through his mind to think about whether Mary was onto something in regard to Carson and Mrs Hughes. If he thought about it there was the odd little notion he had witnessed between them, but he had thought that it was just because they were friends. Maybe Mary was right? What if they were closer than they had all anticipated? Time would tell, no doubt, especially now Mary had it in her mind that she needed to find out. Tom didn't think that it was for her own benefit because she had mentioned that she had just wanted Carson to be happy.

Time was getting on, and it had left him feeling positive that they had been able to talk as they had done. When he thought about what he assumed was going to happen, Mary in a depressed state and wallowing, the opposite seemed to be the case. She was struggling, of course she was, but she was lucid and he had gotten more out of her than he had witnessed in a long while. It was a good place to be in. It also dawned on him that potentially this conversation had lifted her a little, especially to know that she wasn't alone in her grief and that he had experienced it for himself. Whether she took it on board enough to come to him if she needed it was the biggest question, but he thought that she might.

"Well, I better make a move. I'll keep my ears to the ground about what we spoke about." Tom stood and slid his arm into his jacket. "We will all be very happy when you come home again, Mary. Very happy. Just remember what I said. This is going to be hard, and I'm not going to lie to you, it'll be hard for a while. You'll get there though, we'll make sure of it. You are not alone."

Mary knew that he meant every single word. It was good to have someone on her side that understood, to the letter, what it was she was going through. "I'm going to do this, Tom. I'm going to do this for Matthew and for George. I really appreciate the time you took to come and see me." Mary got up to her feet and walked over to her bed, sticking her hand under the pillow and pulling out her pile of letters. It had occurred to her the night before that, in terms of her parents, it might be easier to express her feelings by giving them the letters. When they next visited she was going to hand them over, because she knew that they wanted to talk to her about what had happened. The look in her Mama's eyes was enough to know that there were many unanswered questions. The letters would mean that there would be an explanation without the probable fight that went with it. Tom being here was the perfect thing, because he could hand them over without her being there. Was it cowardly? Slightly. Did she think that it was the best way considering her Papa's temper sometimes? Yes. "Could you do me a favour, Tom?"

Tom did his jacket up. "Of course."

"I wrote these before all this happened. Could you give them to my parents?" Mary walked over and handed him the two letters. "There is one for you too, but, I feel that we have an understanding enough between us and I don't need to give it to you. You understand this grief, and the decision I made more than anyone I know now. It basically said that I appreciate you as a brother-in-law and friend, and that Sybil followed her heart to something great." Mary paused and placed her hand gently on his arm. "I'm very glad we are friends, Tom. I really appreciate you coming here and trying to help me. I really do."

Tom smiled and tucked the letters into his pocket. "We are a force to be reckoned with Mary. I don't know how I would stand up against the world if I didn't have your help." Nodding, he placed his hand on top of hers and smiled. "You get better. I'm only a phone call away."

Mary smiled and watched as Tom walked to the table and lifted the boxes under his arm. "Thank you, Tom."


	23. Chapter 23

_**Firstly, I have to apologise for the sheer length of this chapter. It's one of the reasons why it has taken me so long to complete because I needed it to be perfect. I wrote it, and then I changed it, and then I realised I needed to do something special to make it come together. Once you get into it you'll see that it splits, and there are two separate dialogues for the same thing (it'll make sense when you read it). The separate dialogues come from one perspective each time, and it tries to give both sides of the story. It was hard, I'm not going to lie, and it took me lots of time to really get into. I'm normally in bed by 11, and it's currently 1am. I've been working flat on this since 5pm when I finished work because I was determined to get it done and out today. I hope this is what you expected. I still have a few more chapters left in me. This one was the one that had given me the most grief, so I hope the hard work has paid off. Please, I hope you enjoy it. **_

* * *

Mrs Hughes was sat on a small wooden bench on the outskirts of the village. Nestled between two oak trees, amidst a small copse, she was shielded from the village, but close enough to be within walking distance of the hospital. It was quiet, nothing but the sound of birds nesting in the trees and the wind brushing through the leaves as the night began to creep in. The sky was painted with pastel pinks and oranges as the deeper shades of fuchsia and purple seeped between the clouds like ink bleeding into the paper. She hadn't been there long enough to calm herself, but she didn't feel as frantic and anxious as she had done just a few minutes before.

When Mrs Hughes had gotten to the front of the hospital, her heart beating loudly in her ears as she felt her stomach flip over and over, she had never felt so scared. At one point, when she was stood completely frozen in her tracks, she thought she was going to be sick. A wave of nausea sat heavy in her throat as she thought about what was going to happen as soon as she had made her way into his room. There would be no turning back because she knew that if she walked away from the hospital now with her tail between her legs, she would never have the courage to do it again. It was all or nothing. The fear that oozed in every thought was thick and penetrating, gripping her core like a vice and making her second guess every word she thought. How would she start the conversation? Would she talk about how he was and somehow slip it in? What if he stopped her before she could get it all out because he didn't feel the same way?

The wind began to pick up and she turned her gaze to the sky, noticing that the pastel colours had been replaced with very dark purples and blues. Oh, how she loved the colours that dusk generated, the way the sky erupted as if a final hurrah from the sun. As much as she would love to watch it finish she knew that It was time to go in. As she leant heavily into the bench, she sighed a guttural and elongated sigh that was pure and raw. When she tried to calm herself she would get a sudden thought that would then cascade into a nervous and stomach-rolling surge of adrenaline, and she would hold her breath. The beating in her chest was hard and fast, the blood rushing to her ears and giving her temporary moments of lost hearing. Mrs Hughes had to remind herself that no matter what, tomorrow would come. If that day was awful, the day after that would come. It was what was getting her through this because the terrifying idea of him turning her down made her want to run for the hills and not come back. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

Before she had left to walk down, Mrs Patmore had noticed that she had been loitering in the passageway that lead to the back door. Mrs Hughes had her hand outstretched toward the doorknob, and she bit her lip as she tried to pluck up the courage to finally take the first steps. Popping out from the kitchen, Mrs Patmore had moved so she was standing in front of her, eyeing her up with those narrow eyes. It had been a busy and stressful day, and as Mrs Hughes had looked at her friend, the orange puffs of hair sticking out in an array of directions, she could see the concern painted there as clear as day. Placing her hand on Mrs Hughes' arm, she nodded her head, and in a clear and strong voice, she said. "Our lives are laced with difficult moments, Mrs Hughes. A lot more than most folk I reckon. I know that you two are meant to be in each other's lives. If I were a bettin' woman, I would put everything I had in my purse on the fact that he would be made up with your words, because he feels the same. Just keep yourself steady, be strong with your words and we're 'ere for you. Do this for you, Mrs Hughes. I watch you all the time, sacrificing yourself for other people. Stayin' up late to help, working on your 'alf day off and going to bed at ridiculous times for other people. This is for you. I don't think you'll need it, but I'll wait up for you." Mrs Hughes didn't say anything back, instead, she lifted her hand to her shoulder and squeezed it. They exchanged a friendly gaze, and Mrs Hughes opened the door once Mrs Patmore was clear. The walk down seemed to take hours, and now she was sat on the bench with her heart in her throat.

It was time. It was getting cold and she couldn't sit there all night. She needed to catch him before he went to sleep. It would throw the biggest spanner in the works now if she had built up the courage to go and see him but he was already asleep. That knock would make her go back up to the house, and she knew that she didn't know if she could make the journey again. It would be easy to rationalise herself out of this situation, telling herself that it was improper, or telling herself that she wasn't the right woman for him like she had done a million times already. No, this was it. It had to be. No doubt she would stumble over her words, so she had to try and remain calm so she remained as explicit and clear as she could.

Standing up, Mrs Hughes pulled her jacket down so that it wasn't bunched up any more, making sure that there weren't any creases. No doubt Carson would notice, and she didn't want to let on that there was anything wrong. The ground that lead her back towards the village was uneven. There were small dips in the land where they had been worn down over time, and because it wasn't a proper thoroughfare to the houses at the back, it had never had any work done to correct it. Carefully she made her way down towards the road, softly placing her feet, straining with her eyes to see where the dips were. The last thing she wanted was to fall over and hurt herself. The village was quite quiet in the evenings, and if she fell over she might end up being there for a while on her own. Only a few more steps and she would be back on the road, taking the journey to baring her soul to him.

When her foot touched the solid floor of the road, she turned her head towards the hospital and exhaled with her lips pushed together like she was going to whistle. There was not an ounce of calmness in her body, it felt, and the electricity that burnt through her veins made her feel like she was going to explode. Pushing her foot forward, and then the other, she began the agonising walk towards the hospital entrance. The small arch that lead to the door was menacing. It towered up over her like a brick-made giant, the rough surface of the bricks giving the illusion of veins as the coming moon cast a shadow from above. The world always did look different when the light changed and the darkness fell. It was like the mirror to the day, with shadows seemingly absorbing the normal shapes of your average objects. Even when she walked up or downstairs at her age in the dark, it still felt like something was going to rush up from behind her and take her by the legs. The way the world was perceived changed dramatically, and as she stood staring up at the arch above her, she focused until she could make them out as what they were once more. Bricks.

When she entered the hospital she made sure that she said hello to the nurse downstairs. Normally, there weren't many visitors to the hospital. In the evening, the hospital didn't allow visitors really, but given everything that had been going on they hadn't enforced anything. The hospital was quiet, with minimal patients inside. They all knew Mrs Hughes by name. Some of them she had recognised from the village in her normal day to day running, but they had become more familiar when she had started showing up every evening.

When her foot touched the first step on the stairs, she hesitated and took a firm grip of the bannister, squeezing it tight as she pulled herself upwards. Slowly and surely she made her way up the stairs as if she was walking to her end. The anxiety raging within her and making her have to swallow down the bile that kept being made readily available to the back of her throat. "Come on, Elsie," she whispered, eyeing up the doorway down the corridor like it was the gateway to her penultimate act. The act that would put her older years either on the map or send it converging into a pit of loneliness or despair. It was time.

* * *

Carson placed the finished book on the table closest to his bed, feeling somewhat disconsolate by the ending. It wasn't the best book at all, and he had pushed on whilst he waited for Lady Mary to source him another. It wasn't like him to leave anything unfinished, and so he made sure he completed it because sometimes the ending could take you by surprise. The story was not specifically the usual genre that he spent his time on, being much rather having preference over factual work, or something that focused on previous wars. The last book he had read before that was about the Crimean War, and had left him very impressed. It had taken him a while to complete, as he had to fit it around work, but he was enthralled from the first chapter. The book that he had persevered with was something of a romantic drama, most certainly not something he usually spent his time with. It was the only book he could get his hands on, and he had to keep his mind occupied to prevent him from going stir-crazy. If Carson thought about the usual make-up of his working day and week, he hardly ever had any downtime to give himself room to feel bored. There were nearly always jobs that needed completing, or someone to talk to, so he was rarely at a loose end. In the evenings if he couldn't sleep he would have a book that was by the side of his bed that he could continue with if the chance arose. That happened very rarely, his body accustomed to the way he worked and the average time he would go to bed. Carson was like a Grand-Father clock, reliable and kept time very well. The last time he had struggled to sleep, that he could recall anyway, was when Mrs Hughes had been having the issues with her health. That rattled him much more than he thought it ever would, and he would spend hours at night agonising over how she was, and the prospect of her becoming gravely ill.

The dream he had the days before had left her sitting heavily on his mind. The rationale that it was just a dream was planted firmly at the forefront of his mind, but even then, there was something that bit at him that he couldn't shake. It was like a small annoying puppy clamouring for his attention at his ankles. Mrs Hughes was the pillar that helped keep the home working, and he knew that she had made things slightly better over the years she had been there; not that he would ever truly admit that. The moment he had watched her break in the dream had made him feel listless. Carson couldn't recall ever seeing her so unhappy. The way her face creased up, looking so sad and broken had left him feeling overwhelmed with the need to touch her, comfort her and save her from whatever anguish was plaguing her. Over the hours in the day, he had thought to himself about trying to phone up to the house, if he could, to see if everything was ok. Then he knew she would likely think that he didn't think she could cope without him, which was never going to be the case. Carson knew she was most capable. Not only had he been left worrying about her from the dream, but he also couldn't figure out why she had spent so much time by his side whilst he was unconscious. Carson knew that there wasn't any dire need because he wasn't conscious to communicate with. Why else would she want to be here? Was she struggling? Did she need to be with him because he didn't have anyone else? Did she care enough to want to be with him when he was most vulnerable? So many reasons with no concrete answers. At one point he wondered if she really cared that much for him, which left him feeling embarrassed for questioning her loyalties. They were friends, and she had proven many times over the years that she would help him where she can. "_You know me, Mr Carson. I fight the good fight with you. Always_." The words suddenly having more of a potential meaning than he first realised.

Carson had been left curious, and annoyingly so, because he liked things to remain in an order he could control. Not knowing the answers and having too many avenues that his thoughts could travel down left him feeling frustrated. Although he was fond of her, more than he could ever process or even admit properly to himself, it didn't stop him wondering if she felt the same. Over the years he had pushed it to one side with great difficulty, always finding himself gravitating towards her or watching her with admiration without even realising. In his eyes it had been improper for people in their positions to become 'intertwined', so to speak, and had even looked down on people who had done like that in other homes. The grapevine between aristocratic households was quick and fierce, and word travelled quickly. Having had the thoughts himself left him feeling very conflicted between the propriety he had stood for over the years in his role, and the key to his heart. There had been relations over the years between the help, and no repercussions, and so there had been a flame of hope ignited within him, even if he had tried to put it out himself.

Carson knew that deep down Mrs Hughes made him happy; it was as simple as that. They worked side by side, day after day, and he had never become sick of her company. There had been other people he had worked with that has left his skin crawling, because he didn't want to be anywhere near them. With her, she made his day better, no matter what. The way she smiled made him feel warm, the way she looked at him made his heart skip a beat, and the highlight of his day was sitting down with her and only her. There had been times they had brushed arms in the corridor if they walked together or pushed past each other in a hurry, and his whole arm would set off into warm electrical charges. Mrs Hughes stood for so much in his eyes. As a person, she was fierce, strong and fearless in her approach to tackling what she felt was right. As silly as it sounded, she reminded him of the tree where he had found Mary. The roots were deep, the trunk strong and it was a key facet of the estate like she was to him. That tree had taken him down, like the way she had taken his heart. It was most unusual to be looking at the parallels of Mrs Hughes and a very old tree, but the concept was pure and true enough.

Carson sat momentarily dazed as his cheeks began to blush uncontrollably as he thought about how she had taken his heart. It didn't hit him at first glance, like the love that had happened in the book he had just finished, but it had most certainly developed over time. Carson remembered the first day she had come to the house, and he had stood at the back door looking at her from head to toe. The hair on her head was immaculate, her clothes straight and proper, and she looked at him with a judging eye as she made her way towards him. A lot of people averted their gaze when he watched them, but she didn't, and she maintained herself right up to the point she stood ahead of him. When she was close enough Carson could see that she was pretty. It was clear that she hadn't had an easy life up until that point, most workers in the house had that look about them if you knew where to spot it, but she was very pleasant to look at. Nothing more came from that, and he never thought she would be the one to hold his heart like the last piece of a hidden jigsaw that his life had spanned. No, he remembered watching her writing a letter, her eyes looking down at the paper with intense curiosity. Carson couldn't remember who it was to, but he remembered feeling in complete awe of her. As he stood there in her doorway, watching quietly as she scribbled away, he felt an overwhelming urge to stand her to her feet and envelope her in his arms. The thoughts were not improper in that respect, as he would never think of her like _that_, it would be disrespectful. However, he wanted to be close to her, feel her against him and protect her from the world. She was perfect.

Could Carson begin bowing to the modern age and approach Mrs Hughes with his feelings? Could they be one until the end? The near-death experience had put a lot into perspective, and she was always the one he thought of in the morning or before he went to bed. Could she be the one he saw every night before he closed his eyes? and be there every morning when they woke up? It wasn't the first time that the essence of mortality had questioned where she stood in his world. When she had been back and forth to the doctors during her cancer scare, he had felt so completely helpless. Not being in relations meant that he couldn't do what he wanted. When she came back, looking lost but being stubborn in saying she was ok, he wanted to take her by the hand and pull her to one side and see how she was. When she stared back at him, her eyes telling him how worried she was, he wanted to hold her. That had been the last proper time he had wanted to broach the subject of where they stood in each other's worlds. The time he had wanted to tell her how he had truly felt. The thought that he was going to lose her had scared him to the core. Then she had been given the all-clear and the job had got in the way so it had never come to fruition. It had enveloped his chance like a fire, ravaging a parched field in the summer heat. As the days passed he had managed to talk himself out of it because he had fought with himself about it being proper, and he didn't want to feel the humiliation of rejection. Carson was a proud man after all. Now, he sat in the hospital bed, questioning fiercely whether it was time to attempt the subject again because life was short and the times were changing. Carson had never thought he would be as happy as she made him, but if she agreed with him on this subject, he thought his heart would burst. Carson did not want her traversing this life without her knowing what she meant to him. No, he was going to have to tell her. If she came to see him again, he would have to tell her. After all, what if something happened and his head injury hadn't quite healed and he relapsed? She needed to know. He needed to know. Their worlds could be quite different If they were on the same page. The prospect of a lonely retirement could be replaced with a new life.

Carson meandered happily over the image of the pair of them holding hands before pushing it to one side. The wind had picked up outside as the sun began to set. The sky was painted with pastel pinks and oranges as the deeper shades of fuchsia and purple seeped between the clouds like ink bleeding into the paper. It reminded Carson of the colours he once used when he took up painting as a hobby. That didn't last as long as he had wanted, realising quickly that he was not an artist. The hands he had were steady, they had to be, but the intricate detail he had tried to paint couldn't be reached with his broad spade-like hands. As he sat watching the clouds move and swirl amidst the dusk-filled colours, he wondered what Mrs Hughes was doing. It was a beautiful night, and he knew that she loved to watch as the sun went down. The warmth of day morphing into the splendour of dusk. The magic interchanging between night and day. It was funny to him that he could see her in almost everything.

* * *

When Mary was having a wander to stretch her legs, she had come across a small pile of books that looked like they could use some dusting off and a read. One of them, after she had a decent look, looked like something Carson would enjoy reading more than the book he currently had in his possession. Dr Clarkson had wandered past and had confirmed that they were from previous patients who had forgotten them, and she was free to do with them as she wished. So she was going to pop it into him so he had something else to pay his attention to. As she rounded the corner she noticed someone stood at the top of the stairs so she held back a little as she tried to focus on who it was. It only took a moment for her to realise that it was Mrs Hughes. Standing there with a vacant expression, Mary could see that she didn't at all look herself. Normally, the older woman held a very strong and fixed facial expression, never really letting on- at least in her presence- how she was feeling. There had been times when she had been able to see the annoyance and displeasure in whatever it was that Mary was doing.

It had been quite a few days since Mary had last seen Mrs Hughes properly, the pair of them having a conversation she had never expected. It was if that conversation had happened years ago, the woman looking tired and sullen as she stood staring off into nothing. Mrs Hughes didn't have a particularly dark complexion, in fact, she was quite fair, but she looked pale and worn down. Maybe things up at the house were tough at the moment? or the hours spent by Carson's side had caught up with her. It wasn't as if she was a young woman any more.

Mary was relatively astute at reading facial expressions, it had always helped her get what she wanted. Being able to place someone's feelings into a pot and work them in her favour had made her life relatively easy in that respect. The expression that Mrs Hughes was painted with was something that resembled terror. The older woman's eyes were wide, and she seemed to be pausing for some unknown reason, focusing on something in the distance. The expression looked like there was also something quite heavy on her mind, her shoulders sagging downwards as she looked to steady herself. The last time she went to speak to her she had used the mantra of 'what would Matthew do?' And it seemed like she needed to follow that. There was curiosity around who Mrs Hughes was, and what she was to Carson, and what he was to her. Too many questions, with it not being the right time to ask them though.

"Mrs Hughes?" Mary called out, gripping the book in her hand and bringing it up to her chest. "How are you? I haven't seen you here for a short time. I hope Papa isn't working you too hard?" Mary smiled and tried to appear friendly. Edith always said that when she forced a smile she looked like she had trapped wind, but that was probably her being her usual charming self.

Mrs Hughes took a step to the side, a little shocked at the sudden sound of Lady Mary's voice. "Oh, My Lady." The unfaltering gaze she had on a distant point was broken, and she returned herself to the space long enough to see Mary come into view. This was the second time she had popped up out of nowhere during the time she wanted to be alone.

Mary peered curiously at her, taking particular note of the eyes. "I asked Papa to send a book down, but I know he probably forgot to give it to you. I found this and was going to give it to Carson. I'm sure he would be quite annoyed if I told you, but he's been reading a romance novel," she left out a light chuckle to see if she could get a response. "It's most certainly his sort of book, so I thought it would be better for him to keep him busy. You know Carson, he hates being bored." Mary paused and watched Mrs Hughes who attempted to smile back, her lips barely moving at the edges. "Well, yes, anyway. I thought it would be nice to give it to him. I assume you're here to see him? He'll be glad of the company no doubt. As you're here I thought it would be nice for you to give it to him. I popped in to see him earlier, and no doubt he's probably sick of me badgering him."Mary held the book out towards her, a small pleasant smile on her lips.

Mrs Hughes glared up at Mary curiously and took the book from her outstretched hand. There was a slight pang of jealousy at how much free time Mary had to spend with Carson. This was something that she knew that she had never been able to do. It must be such an odd thing to have such remarkable freedom. "Thank you," she replied weakly. "If you were going to go and see him, I can come back?" It was not as if Mrs Hughes needed an excuse to go away after all.

Mary's eyes grew wide. "Oh, no, not at all, Mrs Hughes. I can come and see him at any time. As I said, it'll be nice for him to see someone other than me." There was most certainly something amiss with Mrs Hughes, and Mary couldn't quite put a finger on it, but whatever it was it seemed important. There was a lot on her mind. Mary was not stupid or greedy in keeping it from happening. The curiosity was rife though, biting at the tip of her tongue as she held back the question on seeing what the matter was really. It wasn't as if Mrs Hughes would ever tell her considering they weren't the best of friends, barely anything at all in fact. Just two people that shared 2 common denominators- Downton Abbey and Carson.

Mrs Hughes tried to avoid the penetrating gaze of Mary, wondering what she was playing at. It was always Lady Mary's way to ensure that she got what she wanted. Why would she be so kind and let Mrs Hughes take the time with Carson? And give him a book that she had taken the time and effort to get for him? Mary had been pleasant and had apologised before, but still, there always seemed to be something underlying there.

"Well," Mary said cheerily. "Don't let me keep you! I'll get out of your way."

Mrs Hughes nodded and pushed the book into the crook of her arm. "Thank you." The reply was weak, distant and without real conviction. The words were empty to make sure that they were enough to try and end the conversation. Mrs Hughes didn't like to partake in idle chatter at the best of times, let alone with Lady Mary.

Mary smiled. "As I said, Mrs Hughes. He will be _very_ glad to see you." It felt a little devilish, but she was intrigued to see what her reaction was going to be.

Mrs Hughes jerked at the words, her stomach flipping at the way the word was focussed on so strongly. Was there something Lady Mary knew that she didn't? Was she just commenting because Carson was indeed bored and hadn't had any visitors? She tried to squash her brain as it began speeding off like a train once more. Remaining calm was important right now because she had the urge to bolt like a horse if she didn't contain it. "I'll go give it to him now, My Lady."

Mary smiled, taking note of the instant reaction in Mrs Hughes' eyes that added to the bank of evidence mounting in favour of how the older servants feelings were held. The idea of Carson being happy helped make Mary feel a small tinge of happiness, and so it all seemed to be adding up in her favour. "Good Night, Mrs Hughes." Mary turned herself around and made herself scarce.

Mrs Hughes pulled the book out from her arm and turned the leather-bound item around so she could read the spine. It was a book she had heard of, and she knew that it would indeed be something that he would enjoy. It was conveniently placed almost because now she could arrive to see him as if she had a purpose. Rather than turning up and Carson asking questions, she could say that she was here to pass him the book. Carson probably wouldn't query anything in regards to whether it was true or not, because it was just a book.

As she moved towards the door, she raised her hand and held it just next to the wood, carefully waiting until she could pluck up the courage to push her arm to finally bring it against the door. As her hand hovered there, sitting in a ball, she could see that her hand was shaking, and not only that but her arm was too. As much as she was struggling, she knew she needed to finish this. Living in a state of permanent unsurety was hard work mentally and physically. Taking the plunge she rapped her knuckles against the door and waited for the acknowledgement that would allow her to finally start this forward motion.

"Come in?" she heard him say quite firmly, his voice sounding like the same tone he would use on some of the younger hall boys. It was his Butler's voice. It was slightly cold, and not laced with the familiarity that she was used to.

Mrs Hughes placed her hand on the door handle, feeling the metal cold against her skin. "There's no time like the present," she tried to reassure herself as she pushed the handle down and opened the door slowly.

The room wasn't very bright, as the only source of light was coming from a mediocre lamp that was residing on a table next to Carson's bed. There he sat, leaning against some pillows, still managing to look as proud as he did when he was stood outside of Downton. It was natural to him, an air of dignity and strength that even now when he was in the hospital, hadn't faltered. It was as if the role of Butler was made just for him, designed and etched around everything that he was. When he looked up he locked eyes with her and she felt the ice of fear that ran through her veins begin to melt, her stomach tensing as she watched his face move from a puzzled expression to one of happiness and familiarity. The magnificent brows that lined his face, that lead all of his expressions, lifted, as if the guard dogs were pleased with the visitor. People commented often about his eyebrows because they were so dominant on his face, but she loved them. They made his character and were by far one of the most expressional things on his face.

"Mrs Hughes? What a lovely surprise." Mrs Hughes heard him say, his voice peaking and showing the genuine happiness that he was feeling. It helped that over the years she had learnt to read him like a book, and so she knew that her being there had lifted his spirits. It wasn't a surprise really, considering he had been in bed for days with minimal company. "Mr Carson, I'm very glad to see you looking so well." It was the truth, and he looked so much better in contrast to the last time she saw him. It was a wonderful sight.

Mrs Hughes could see that he was tracking her with his eyes, taking in her posture, body and face. The gaze of his never faltered, and she knew that he was taking in as much as he could, his eyes finally resting on hers as he tried to bore into her soul. There he searched for whatever it was he was looking for, not that she was very sure what that was, but it was something he did quite often. Maybe he was trying to see how she was coping considering she was doing two roles? It was hard to keep her eyes on his, so she looked away, knowing that he likely knew how to read her as much as she knew how to read him. That was a scary thought.

"Thank you. I feel quite well, "he boomed happily at her.

The chair at the side of Carson's bed was calling out to her, the aching in her legs making them give out as she bent her legs to sit down. As she did, she lowered her bag to the floor and placed the book on top without thinking. The task at hand had taken over and she had forgotten she was meant to hand it over. The look he gave her was one of puzzlement, he seemed perplexed at something, she could tell by the way his eyebrows knitted together."Are you quite well, Mrs Hughes? You look a little down in the mouth."

At first, Mrs Hughes tried to force a smile, but the edges of her lips wouldn't move up quick enough so she knew it looked like more of a grimace than a smile. "I'm fine, thank you," she lied. "I'm just a little tired. It's been a long week I'll tell you that."This was not a lie.

The nod that Carson gave was slow and included the head-tilt he did when he acknowledged something. It always reminded her of the way a puppy reacted to high pitched noises. At first, she was sure it had quenched his curiosity, and so she tried to think about the best way to begin her conversation with him. It reminded her of a car, the hardest part sometimes was starting it up, but once it was going it just did. She hoped that when she started, with whatever topic it was, that it would just flow out of her until she was confident enough to finally pluck up the courage to finish her quest. As she adjusted her coat she watched as he adjusted himself so that he was sitting at less of an incline, lining himself up so he was more formal. It was clear by the way his eyes were moving that he was thinking, and with that, she knew that he wasn't satisfied with her previous explanation of what had gone on and why she looked so bad. Rather than allowing him the time to ask, she knew she had to fill the void to give him less reason to press. "It's been quite busy at the house without you. It's all running well, we're all just a little tired with keeping up. It has been unusual circumstances."

"I apologise that there is extra added pressure on you all because of this. I'll be back soon enough."

Mrs Hughes shook her head. "Don't be silly. You weren't to know that this was going to happen. We can manage. We would rather you get better and back to full form than come back too soon."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he agreed, straightening out his bedclothes. Mrs Hughes was slightly amused by that, even though it was most certainly a 'Carson' thing to do.

Carson continued to observe her through furrowed brows, his eyes searching hers, something she knew by the way he tracked from side to side. Whether he was trying to make sense of what her face was telling him, or whether he was looking at her to try and break through her lie she wasn't sure. It made her try and soften her facial expression to something a little more friendly or normal. It wasn't working through, her muscles seemingly fixed like concrete. Then he cleared his throat, and she knew he was going to say something. "I don't want to seem as if I'm being pushy, Mrs Hughes, but are you sure you're quite well?" Why was it when she was trying to seem as opaque as possible was he able to see right through her like she was glass?

It was kind of him to make this about her, but in her own opinion, this was about him and who he was to her. What she needed to do was try and propel the direction of the conversation away from her current state, to something that was about them. Mrs Hughes was used to him being a little less direct when it came to talking about feelings. If he thought that there was something wrong, he would ask, maybe press a little, but then he would retreat when the answer wasn't given. There had been multiple times when he had gone to the next obvious source of information, and that was Mrs Patmore. The cook was a good friend, and would only ever give him anything to toy with if she thought that it would help. Carson did look out for her sometimes, even if she was insistent that he didn't need to as she had always lived an independent life. However, there was a part of her that did enjoy the fact that he took that step to make sure she was ok. It was nice to know someone cared enough to try. Carson was fiercely loyal to those he cared about, and it was a fine quality to possess. If she were to look at herself, she knew that she would also fit into this category, and had been known to get herself into trouble when fighting for something she held dear. Not only was he loyal and protective, but he also wasn't very pliable and frequently stood his ground. As a man, especially in his position, he had issues expressing himself as much as she did. When she would ask what was wrong, he would retort with the same dreary reply as her. It was common for him to try and maintain propriety and a stone face when presented with an issue that bothered him deeply. It was one of the reasons as to why she had honed in on the finite details of his face so she could learn about how he was, even when he didn't want her to know.

Trying to muster up something, she opened her mouth to start. "I-" she paused, wondering if this was the right moment to begin. There was an internal struggle going on where she was battling her heart and her mind over whether this was the right moment. Going through a limited catalogue of talking points, she proceeded to run into the barrier that was planted firmly over her mouth. Looking around she noticed a book on the table. "I see you've been reading something. Was it any good?"

Carson reached for it and lifted it. "Oh, yes. I'm afraid it's not very good. Do not think less of me, Mrs Hughes, for partaking in the genre of romance! I had nothing else to hand, and I couldn't sit here being idle without some sort of stimulus." When he realised what he had said his face dropped. "Oh, I didn't mean THAT," he said nervously, scrunching up his eyes in embarrassment. "I just mean that I needed something to do, to pass the time until Dr Clarkson is happy for me to come home."

Mrs Hughes smirked at his reaction, knowing exactly what he had meant in the first place. It would never occur to think of anything else when speaking with Carson because she thought his mind didn't ever wander in that direction. Thinking about books, she realised that she had completely forgotten about the book that Mary had given her. "Oh, that reminds me," she exclaimed. This was going to be the lead into the reason as to why she was there, and in the end, she hadn't even had to use it because he hadn't asked. "I have this for you from Lady Mary. I assure you that this is certainly more to your taste."

Carson took the book from her hand and read the spine, nodding his head. "Oh yes, I've been looking to read this one for a while. Thank you. This will certainly entertain me better than this other one."

"Well," Mrs Hughes said coyly. "I won't judge you, Mr Carson, for reading that one. If it's all you had and you're stuck here then what else were you to do? Did it all end happily ever after?"

Carson scoffed under his breath. "These things nearly always do, don't they? Not that I've read anything like this for some time to have an accurate compendium of romance novel endings."

"Oh, so you've read some before though?" Mrs Hughes teased, being thankful for the humorous change in tone. It hadn't gone unnoticed that his cheeks had changed to a warm pink colour.

"Well, over the years, maybe once or twice. They don't grip me enough, Mrs Hughes. The story tends to be quite predictable in my eyes. I like something with a little more substance. I always find these things aren't true to life. How often do we see people running off into the sunset to lead a perfect life? No. Relationships are built on mutual respect, on experiences and in most cases hardship. It's what gives them the character and a foundation." Mrs Hughes always noticed when he was comfortable in what he was talking about, and around her, the way he talked changed very slightly. Doing his job as a Butler, he had developed a particular way of talking, but she found that when she was on her own with him he was more likely to take up his northern roots, his accent becoming much more pronounced.

Mrs Hughes had read a few in her time if she was honest, and they did tend to follow a similar pattern. "Usually those books aren't simple either though. They normally toy with you about the characters telling each other their true feelings after some sort of life-threatening situation. I assume that's the case?" When Mrs Hughes finished her words she could hear the relevance in what she was saying concerning her current events. There had been a life-threatening situation, and she was here to tell him how she felt. Would she get her character's happy ending? Or would this be some horrible plot twist that would leave her morose and catastrophically lost?

"Yes, you assume correctly. I like to finish things, Mrs Hughes, and even though I didn't feel that it would titillate me as much as I had hoped, I need to finish it. There's always hope that it could shock me into being better than I thought it was going to be. I'll tell you now, it was not. Thank you for bringing me this one though. This is very good. I wanted to read this a while ago, but you know what happens when life gets in the way. It's the little things that always end up falling to the wayside. I would adore a glass of port right now to settle me in for the evening with a good book."Mrs Hughes watched as he closed his eyes as if trying to conjure the nostalgic sense of a decent glass of port to his mind.

As he paused, Mrs Hughes, allowed herself to fully think about the relevance of this genre and the whole topic of conversation had on her current state. It almost seemed to be the perfect lead-in, as if someone had scripted it. "Mr Carson?"

"Hmm?" She heard him reply as he opened his eyes to look at her.

"I don't want you to think ill of me for asking-"

"Never, Mrs Hughes." The reply he gave made her smile for just a second, giving her the courage to continue.

"Have you ever thought about if you would ever have your happy ending?"The question passed over her lips very quietly, and for a moment she thought she was going to have to repeat it for him. It took a moment, but his face reacted enough for her to know he had heard, and so all she had to do was sit and wait to see what he said.

"Well, in all honesty, Mrs Hughes, I have been very close indeed. I will shamefully admit that I lost the courage to act upon it though." Mrs Hughes could hear the disappointment in his voice, and she watched as he lowered his chin to his chest. The way his face suddenly lost his happy glow made her feel sad for him. This sadness was replaced with a pang of jealousy when she finally absorbed his words. There had been someone that had taken his heart. Who was it? Was there any point continuing forward with her quest when it seemed as if there was no room in his heart for her? No. Regardless of this information, she had to express herself.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she mumbled. "It surprises me, Mr Carson. I've always found you quite direct."

Leaning back into her chair, feeling a little dejected by the new information, she watched as his expression changed as if he was going through memories of this elusive woman. "When someone is so dear to your heart, Mrs Hughes, it makes the task twice as hard. We live in a world that is in the service of others. We face fortitude in respect to the things we give up in the process of doing a good job. Losing courage is difficult, and it has played on my mind almost every day." The air fell flat as he took in a deep breath. Then he looked at her with questioning eyes. "What about you, Mrs Hughes?"

Mrs Hughes sighed, knowing that this was the moment that she was going to go straight into it. Looking at his face from top to bottom, taking in the splendour of the dear man ahead of her, she couldn't help but smile. The glint in his eyes was strong, reminding her that he was the lighthouse that gravitated her to the shore during the storm that was her life. This perfect man, who left her in awe of everything he was, really was her everything. There were things that they didn't agree on, but that was a matter of opinion and perspective and not anything personal to detract from that. When she woke up in the morning and started her day, she looked forward to the idle morning conversations and the quiet familiarity that they shared. They spoke about work and their night sleep, and all the trivial things that made relationships unique. It was what kept the warmth of friendship between them. They cared for each other, no matter what. They had been there for each other amidst many different catastrophes, and they still stood firm to face the world. Thinking about all of that made the worry and coldness that had enveloped her dwindle into something minor. Looking into his eyes she felt him draw the fear away from her because he was always the pillar that she leant on if she needed it. They were friends, regardless, and had built up something unique over the years of working together. It was time.

"I have been very close, Mr Carson. At first, if I'm honest, I didn't think too much of him. There was an air of arrogance about him, and as you know, that's not something that ever sits well with me. We all eat from the same pot after all. In the job that he was in, he was very rigid and stuck in his ways. I understood, to a degree, as he had learnt from someone who had been brought up deeper into the old ways than any of us ever had. Over the years we had understandably had our fair share of moments where we didn't see eye to eye. At one point I even thought that I needed to get a new job because I couldn't work with the inflexibility. It took time, but we began to work better together. There is an elegance to him, but also a strong core of loyalty for those that he works for. There is one, in particular, the eldest daughter of the house, who has a hold on him. I know and understand that he loves her like a daughter, and I always respected that. It was always her though. At one point I felt like he had no room in his life for another woman. I got over that though, I had to because I couldn't bear the thought of not being near him. I had seen through the armour that he stood so proudly behind, and I knew what was underneath and that was worth staying for. I'd be lying if I said that it was love at first sight," she chuckled lightly. "No, no, it was far from that. I remember the moment I really knew though, and it was so unbelievably basic. I was sat by his side with my breakfast in front of me. I felt sick to the stomach. I looked at him and realised that I had never felt anything so strong and pure in my entire life. That man was my world, and he was so dear to me. The warmth that ran through me was enough to keep me warm on the coldest of nights. Seeing him every day was what I got out of bed for. Every evening we would share some time together that I looked forward to every day. That time was the time I cherished. The chatter was nothing special, just your normal run of the mill sort of thing, but it was between just us. It helped me understand him and who he was. I was content with that if that was all we were ever going to be. It's better to have a friend who respects you than not. Then he was in an accident, and when I saw him in the mess that he had gotten into, I felt so frightened for him. Not only that, but I realised that I could never do without him. It was then that I realised that if I ever got the chance, I needed to tell him how I felt. Come rain or shine, he needed to know. If he didn't feel the same then I would sleep knowing where I stood." When she finished she exhaled, feeling a weight lift from her chest. To her, what she had said was obvious enough that even Mr Molesley would put the pieces together. Mrs Hughes didn't know where to place her eyes, so she stared at his blanket as she allowed him to process what it was she had just outlined.

"Did you ever get that chance, Mrs Hughes?" The tone of his voice had changed to something very soft and there was a tinge of hesitation in his voice like he knew but he had to validate it to make it concrete in his mind.

Mrs Hughes choked on the words as they burnt into the back of her throat. This was the part that would pull it all together so there would be no room for interpretation. "I think that's what I'm doing now, Mr Carson."

There was a long and agonising pause. Mrs Hughes couldn't bring herself to lift her eyes to him, the courage had evaporated into nothing. There was a piercing vulnerability that lingered in the air around her, suffocating her as she tried to anticipate what was going to come of what she had said. If he hadn't pieced it together as she had thought, then she didn't know if she could spell it out for him in big bold letters. The coolness of the fear returned to her veins now that she didn't have the warmth of his gaze to soothe her. It was real now. It was in the open and she couldn't take it back. It left her feeling sick, the same sort of sick she felt when she realised she had really cared for him. It was as if she had handed him a piece of her soul. He could either take it, and place it with his own, or he could give it her back. If he returned it she didn't think it would ever fit again and it would be lost for good.

"I'm sorry," she blurted nervously, attempting to fill the agonising void with words.

"Whatever for?"

Mrs Hughes could hear the strain in his voice as if someone had taken him by the throat, and this confused her. As she exhaled, drawing in as much as she could muster, she lifted her eyes to him. What she saw was something she had not expected. Carson's face had almost melted. The sternness and strong resolve that he had about him at all times had dissolved into nothing. It was if he had seen the light of God. The way his eyes stared at her, in what she could only describe as awe, made her think it was if he was seeing her for what she was for the first time. Once her eyes locked with his, she couldn't move them away, and so she smiled. "I don't know," she shrugged.

"I don't want to say something in retaliation to your words without sounding like I'm repeating something cliché I had just read in that awful book. I want to give you something from my perspective to help you know that you should never be sorry."

Mrs Hughes didn't quite know what to do with herself, so she nodded and waited for him to talk. It felt like she was in some sort of limbo between heaven and hell.

"I've had a lot of time to think over the past few days, with all this unaccustomed spare time I've had on my hands. I'm not one to dwell on my past, Mrs Hughes, because it doesn't do anything to change the future. You can't help, when you're in a situation like this, but to think about what you have achieved and who you have achieved it with. Life is made up of experiences, and most memories are focused on something because of someone else. It's those key memories that you find yourself playing over in your mind when you are at your lowest or most vulnerable point. The people that you think of when you have nothing left, or the people you miss when the chips are down, are the people that you are to hold on to. We all want to make something of ourselves, Mrs Hughes. We all want to have a perfect life, and that is never achievable. Just look at Lady Mary, and I don't mean to bring her into this, but it's about perspective. Lady Mary was born into wealth, she can have everything in the world if she so wants it. The happy ending for her was already being written with the inclusion of Mr Crawley and then Master George. That was ripped away from her. It doesn't matter who you are, and what you've done with your life, nothing is ever going to be simple. When I've been sat thinking about my life and the people in it, there was one face that kept coming to my mind. Just one. I've always felt like I've never been complete, and so my sole focus in life was to work. I've always wanted to climb the ladder, and that's what I did, but at the cost of what? I now know that in doing this job I would find someone that meant the world to me, that the wasted years of hard work was in fact, nothing short of the fact. This person would make me so very happy without ever doing a thing. I think about them every day when I wake up, and every day when I go to sleep. They fill my mind, they fill my hopes and I see them in very high regard. I've had opportunities to tell them how I feel, and I've never been able to draw enough strength to do it. Like you, I realised a long time ago that I cared for them. It was a simple moment, nothing special, but I knew then that they were the person that I knew was the missing piece to my life. Life does get in the way, things get pushed to the side, and it's times like these that show you what means the most." There was a pause followed by a sigh. "Oh, I'm making a meal of this. My comprehension of the English Language seems to have evaporated from my tongue. The point I want to make is, never feel sorry for expressing your true emotions because you never know what might come of them. If these chances aren't taken then you will never know the impact that they might have on another person. On me."There was another agonising pause. "What I'm trying to say is," he paused again to swallow and focus directly on her as he did. "Is that I love you, Elsie Hughes. You are the one that I think of when I go to sleep and when I wake up in the morning. You are the one that I have missed whilst I am here, and you are the one that fills my life with light. Hearing you speak like that, and in such a way that is directed _to_ me and not _at_ me, has filled me with inexplicable happiness. I don't want you to think that I'm only saying this in retaliation to you speaking your heart-felt truth to me. I had a stern conversation with myself and said that the next time that you graced me with your presence, I was going to tell you. It seems in some strange story-like twist, that you beat me to the prize."

Mrs Hughes watched him as he reached out to her and took her hand. What she wanted to do was to laugh, and cry, and sing, and shout and let everything out. Pulling his hand towards her she rested it on her cheek and leant into it, rubbing it on the outside as she cradled it with her hand. Then she reached out with the other and took his wrist, making sure that he was as close to her as she could. There were no words that she could say to express how she was feeling, so she let it all bubble up inside before she let out a laugh. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and she felt his other hand come up and wipe one away. Mrs Patmore had been right in more ways than one, the tails and lives of Downton Abbey could be turned into a movie. All that mattered really, is that she had the star she wanted for her show, and now she knew that she was the star in his.

* * *

Carson heard a faint knock at the door, and he turned to look at the time before signalling whoever it was to come in. It was likely a nurse or similar, checking in on him and seeing if he wanted anything before he went to sleep. It wasn't at all late, but he felt quite worn down and was looking forward to getting some rest. After these days cooped up in the hospital, he couldn't wait to get out and stretch his legs once more.

The door opened slowly, and he was pleasantly surprised to see Mrs Hughes entering the room. "Mrs Hughes? What a lovely surprise."It felt so long since he was able to talk to her and see how she was, the hours that he had spent in the hotel seeming about three-fold their normal rate of passing. It was a nice surprise, and he suddenly didn't feel at all tired any more.

"Mr Carson, I'm very glad to see you looking so well."

It was customary, and often a force of habit, for him to evaluate people that were in his presence. When she started walking in his direction, he found himself doing just that. It wasn't because he felt the need to for propriety sake, because she wasn't working, but it was more because he wanted to see how she was. Mrs HUghes was a creature of habit, and she also took a lot of pride on herself and how she looked. If there was a hair out of place, then Carson could usually tell that something wasn't quite right. Moving to her face, he could instantly see that there was something wrong, nearly everything about her seemed off. The reasoning became justified even more when he noticed that she avoided his gaze, turning her attention to something obscure in the distance, keeping her head tilted away the closer she got. The skin on her face was pale, much paler than her normally fair complexion. Normally she exuded a natural healthy glow, and she was the pillar of good health and grooming. This seemed to be lost, her skin having the pallor of chalk. This colouring set off the dark circles that encapsulated her eyes and made it seem as if she hadn't slept properly in some time. From what he had heard from Lady Mary about her being by his side for nights on end, this could potentially be one of the reasons. Even her posture wasn't quite right, with her shoulders dipped at the edges and her back slightly arched as if she was being pushed down on by an invisible force. Mrs Hughes wasn't overly skinny or plump, she was just right in his eyes, but he could tell that she had lost weight by the way that her coat hung off of her at the hips. The plumpness to her cheeks had been replaced with a gaunt look, the lighting in the room not helping that as it cast shadows in all the wrong places. It concerned him. Work at the house could be rough, and maybe it had got on top of her more than he thought it could have. The tiredness in her eyes, that he saw as she got closer, looked more emotional than physical. Not wanting to leave too long a pause, he tried to seem happy. "Thank you. I feel quite well."

When she sat down next to him, he looked at her with a puzzled expression, her whole demeanour continuing to make him concerned. "Are you quite well, Mrs Hughes? You look a little down in the mouth?"

When she tried to smile, it didn't stretch out into anything more than a grimace. "I'm fine, thank you," he heard her lie. "I'm just a little tired. It's been a long week I'll tell you that."

Carson nodded slowly, trying to calculate his next move. No, he needed to give her his complete attention, and lying in bed was not the best medium for such a thing. When he leant forward he shifted himself so he was sitting upright, showing her, he hoped, that he was giving her his full attention. Normally when he knew something was wrong he would ask her, and most of the time she would brush him off with some sort of excuse. Not wanting to be a pain, he would likely not press further, but look for some help from Mrs Patmore. Without her at this present moment, he knew that he was going to have to push a little harder to get her to open up.

"It's been quite busy at the house without you. It's all running well, we're all just a little tired with keeping up. It has been unusual circumstances."What he heard was another lie, and this began to frustrate him because he didn't want her to be bothered or upset. If it was because the Abbey was so busy, he knew that it was partly his fault for not being there in the first place, and he would make sure that he was back in work as soon as he could if it meant helping her and relieving this stress from her shoulders. "I apologise that there is extra added pressure on you all because of this. I'll be back soon enough."

"Don't be silly," he heard her exclaim as she shook her head. "You weren't to know that this was going to happen. We can manage. We would rather you get better and back to full form than come back too soon."

Noticing a crease in his shirt, he tried to flatten it out. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

No, he was still not content with her answer. There were things he had picked up on over time with her, and he could tell that she was not being as truthful as he had hoped. As he sat staring at her, seeing it there a clear as day, he was reminded of the dream and how upset she had been. "I don't want to seem as if I'm being pushy, Mrs Hughes, but are you sure you're quite well?"

Carson could see that she was ticking something over in her mind like she was building herself up to tell him what it was. So he waited patiently and watched as she opened her mouth to speak, before closing it again and grimacing. So he sat quietly and patiently, allowing her to put together the words she wanted to say.

"I," she began before pausing again, so obviously battling with herself. "I've seen you've been reading something. Was it any good?" he heard her deflect.

Carson resigned to the fact that she wasn't going to be upfront and tell him what the issue was, so he turned to pick the book up and continue in her favoured topic. "Oh, yes, I'm afraid it's not very good. Do not think less of me, Mrs Hughes, for partaking in the genre of romance! I had nothing else to hand, and I couldn't sit here being idle without some sort of stimulus." Carson realised that his placement of wording was inappropriate, and the context of his sentence could be completely misconstrued. This left him filled with complete horror at the fact that he could even use such a suggestive word in her company. "Oh, I didn't mean THAT. I just mean that I needed something to do, to pass the time until Dr Clarkson is happy for me to come home."

When he looked at her he could see that the comment had generated a smile, and that made him happy, even if it had been at the expense of himself. Oh, how he loved it when she smiled. It left him grinning himself as he looked upon her in that state. There had been many times when he had found himself watching her, especially around Christmas when they all got to let their hair down to a degree. Often, it was also a time when they could dance together. As he had said to himself before, it was the little things in life that made it special.

"Oh, that reminds me," he heard her exclaim. "I have this for you from Lady Mary. I assure you that this is certainly more to your taste."

Carson was intrigued by the book she held in her hand, so he took it gently and turned his attention to the spine. As soon as he read the title, he knew the book straight away and was very pleased to find that it was something he had been looking to read for a while. "Oh yes, I've been looking to read this one for a while actually. Thank you. This will certainly entertain me better than this other one."

That smile reappeared on her lips. "Well. I won't judge you, Mr Carson, for reading that one. If it's all you had and you're stuck here then what else were you to do? Did it all end happily ever after?"

Carson scoffed under his breath. The book itself had been completely obvious on what the plot was going to be very early on, and that was one of the reasons why he didn't read them. "These things nearly always do, don't they? Not that I've read anything like this for some time to have an accurate compendium of romance novel endings."

"Oh, so you've read some before though?"

Carson felt his cheeks begin to burn as he realised he had stepped into a corner. There were things that he had never thought would come into the conversation, and reading romance novels was certainly one of them. The thing is, there was something about the unrealistic expectations that they set that put him off because it let people believe that things would always work out. In the real world, he knew that things didn't always work out in the way that was expected. You had to expect life to throw lemons in your direction, and you couldn't always make lemonade out of them as the saying had said. "Well, over the years, maybe once or twice. They don't grip me enough, Mrs Hughes. The story tends to be quite predictable in my eyes. I like something with a little more substance. I always find these things aren't true to life. How often do we see people running off into the sunset to lead a perfect life? No. Relationships are built on mutual respect, on experiences and in most cases hardship. It's what gives them the character and a foundation."

"Usually those books aren't simple either though. They normally toy with you about the characters telling each other their true feelings after some sort of life-threatening situation. I assume that's the case?"

"Yes, you assume correctly. I like to finish things, Mrs Hughes, and even though I didn't feel that it would titillate me as much as I had hoped, I need to finish it. There's always hope that it could shock me into being better than I thought it was going to be. I'll tell you now, it was not. Thank you for bringing me this one though. This is very good. I wanted to read this a while ago, but you know what happens when life gets in the way. It's the little things that always end up falling to the wayside. I would adore a glass of port right now to settle me in for the evening with a good book."Carson had missed his nightly routine where he would often have a quick drink as they finished for the evening. The thought of the sweetness of the port on the back of his tongue after a long hard day of work was enough to make him close his eyes and wish himself into another time. A time where both of them were warmed by the fire, a drink in their hands and smiles on their faces. The hospital was a far cry from that.

"Mr Carson?" he heard her whisper, bringing him back to the room, making him open his eyes.

"Hmm?

"I don't want you to think ill of me for asking-"

"Never, Mrs Hughes."It was true, he didn't think that there was anything in this world that she could do to make him think ill of her. After everything, she was the reason that he wanted to get up in the morning. Although they would often disagree on things, it was only because they both had strong opinions on how things should be run. It was never anything more than that, and he was thankful to be able to spend the time he could with her outside of the normal day to day tasks. To him, she was perfect, and that was all she would ever be.

The look on her face was one of extreme concentration like she was plucking something out from the back of her mind. The way her eyes glazed over as if she was deep in thought made him intrigued, and he watched as she worked through it in her mind. Then she fixed her eyes on his, the spark that seemed to have been suffocated when she had arrived had reignited to a small ember. "Have you ever thought about if you would ever have your happy ending?"Carson could just about hear her, and he took the time to process what it was she had said. It was a little bit of an odd question, which is why he assumed she had taken so long to come out with it.

In his mind, he wasn't sure if it was the right time to talk about the ending that he wanted in his life, but he knew that she was the only one for him. There had been Alice, but he had never loved her as much as he did Mrs Hughes, so he wouldn't even mention her in passing. If he thought about it, he could be obscure if he wanted to. It reminded him of the time he was going to talk to her about how he felt when she was ill, so he drew upon that as the example. It was the last real moment where he had almost taken the chance at getting it all off of his chest."Well, in all honesty, Mrs Hughes, I have been very close indeed. I will shamefully admit that I lost the courage to act upon it though."The disappointment in himself was strong.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he heard her mumble. "It surprises me, Mr Carson. I've always found you quite direct."

When Carson lifted his eyes back to her, after berating himself in his own special way about how he had acted in the past, he noticed that she had leant dejectedly into her chair. It was true, if he thought about it, he normally was quite direct. In the job, you had to be decisive and direct about what you wanted, especially when you were in control of a house. However, the thought of being so vulnerable and standing up for what you really wanted was not one that you could take lightly. It was no wonder he had faltered at the last hurdle. "When someone is so dear to your heart, Mrs Hughes, it makes the task twice as hard. We live in a world that is in the service of others. We face fortitude in respect to the things we give up in the process of doing a good job. Losing courage is difficult, and it has played on my mind almost every day."Carson took a deep breath as he thought of the moment that she had nearly been taken from him, and it pulled at his heart. Maybe she understood though?"What about you, Mrs Hughes?"

There was a long pause between them, and she gave him the biggest sigh as if she was amassing the strength to talk about it. Did that mean that she had thought about her happy ending with someone else? If that was the case then who was it? Was it someone he knew? When he had told himself that he was going to tell her the next time he saw her, could he compete with the someone that she was currently thinking of? Then he noticed that she was smiling at him, and he tilted his head as he tried to gauge what the smile meant.

"I have been very close, Mr Carson. At first, if I'm honest, I didn't think too much of him. There was an air of arrogance about him, and as you know, that's not something that ever sits well with me. We all eat from the same pot after all. In the job that he was in, he was very rigid and stuck in his ways. I understood, to a degree, as he had learnt from someone who had been brought up deeper into the old ways than any of us ever had. Over the years we had understandably had our fair share of moments where we didn't see eye to eye. At one point I even thought that I needed to get a new job because I couldn't work with the inflexibility." Carson wondered to himself is that was the reason why she had come to Downton in the first place.

"It took time, but we began to work better together. There is an elegance to him, but also a strong core of loyalty for those that he works for. There is one, in particular, the eldest daughter of the house, who has a hold on him. I know and understand that he loves her like a daughter, and I always respected that. It was always her though. At one point I felt like he had no room in his life for another woman." Carson could hear the backwards and forwards from past to present tense as she spoke and his stomach dropped. There was a feeling that he couldn't shake because he had a feeling that he knew now who it was. Was it common for people in roles like his to care for the aristocratic daughters like they were there own? Maybe there were just similarities? Maybe he was reaching for something that he wanted? Whatever it was had left an unusual feeling in the pit of his stomach.

" I got over that though, I had to because I couldn't bear the thought of not being near him. I had seen through the armour that he stood so proudly behind, and I knew what was underneath and that was worth staying for. I'd be lying if I said that it was love at first sight. No, no, it was far from that. I remember the moment I really knew though, and it was so unbelievably basic. I was sat by his side with my breakfast in front of me. I felt sick to the stomach. I looked at him and realised that I had never felt anything so strong and pure in my entire life. That man was my world, and he was so dear to me. The warmth that ran through me was enough to keep me warm on the coldest of nights. Seeing him every day was what I got out of bed for. Every evening we would share some time together that I looked forward to every day. That time was the time I cherished. The chatter was nothing special, just your normal run of the mill sort of thing, but it was between just us. It helped me understand him and who he was. I was content with that if that was all we were ever going to be. It's better to have a friend who respects you than not." Carson could feel the similarities ooze from her story like an odd flavour of deja-vu, making him rationalise it all in his head before he jumped headfirst into the obvious conclusion. It was interesting to see her light up so much as she spoke about the person. The glint in her eye was back, and she briefly locked eyes with him, and he saw it there as clear as day. It was obvious. How had he missed it?

"Then he was in an accident, and when I saw him in the mess that he had gotten into, I felt so frightened for him. Not only that, but I realised that I could never do without him. It was then that I realised that if I ever got the chance, I needed to tell him how I felt. Come rain or shine, he needed to know. If he didn't feel the same then I would sleep knowing where I stood."Carson felt his throat begin to tighten as he let the torrent of emotion and realisation rush through his system like a bullet. There was a tiny part of him that thought that potentially he had read one line too far into this story, and it wasn't what he thought it was. If it really was him, she should just come out and say it now to put him out of his misery.

Carson tried to steady himself as he mustered up the word to ask. "Did you ever get that chance, Mrs Hughes?"

"I think that's what I'm doing now, Mr Carson."

Carson felt as if the world around him had faded into nothing as he looked upon her with awe. It was as if the spotlight from the lamp had moved its focus on her, highlighting her for the amazing human being that she was to him. The skin on her face was delicate and soft, and he smiled as he took in her beauty once more. Even though she didn't look her usual self, he could see through that and knew that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Like the build-up of an orchestra, he felt his heart pound in his chest like the rumbling of a drum. The excitement began to sing out, like the chorus of a song, in every nerve inside of his body. Not only was this the music that he had wanted to hear, but it was something that he had never have expected to be coming from her first.

"I'm sorry," he heard her blurt nervously.

"Whatever for?" he queried, completely perplexed as to why she was apologising. How could someone apologise for telling him what she had just told him? Carson wanted to lift her and hold her against him as he had wanted for so many years. The fact that she felt the same way as he meant that they could carve out their life together. Was it proper? Hearing it from her lips made him disregard it for the meantime. It was something to broach later, but for now, all he wanted to do was tell her that he felt the same to put her at ease. If she could be so bold in sharing her feelings, then he could do it too. The time had come and gone too many times before, and now he could lead-in, and tell her what she meant to him.

Carson steadied himself and lifted his chin high. No, this was most certainly the moment that he needed to let it all out for her. "I don't want to say something in retaliation to your words without sounding like I'm repeating something cliché I had just read in that awful book. I want to give you something from my perspective to help you know that you should never be sorry. I've had a lot of time to think over the past few days, with all this unaccustomed spare time I've had on my hands. I'm not one to dwell on my past, Mrs Hughes, because it doesn't do anything to change the future. You can't help, when you're in a situation like this, but to think about what you have achieved and who you have achieved it with. Life is made up of experiences, and most memories are focused on something because of someone else. It's those key memories that you find yourself playing over in your mind when you are at your lowest or most vulnerable point. The people that you think of when you have nothing left, or the people you miss when the chips are down, are the people that you are to hold on to. We all want to make something of ourselves, Mrs Hughes. We all want to have a perfect life, and that is never achievable. Just look at Lady Mary, and I don't mean to bring her into this, but it's about perspective." Carson could see a small flash of annoyance at the drop of her name in this situation and he knew it was because, in her eyes, even now, there was no escape from Lady Mary.

"Lady Mary was born into wealth, she can have everything in the world if she so wants it. The happy ending for her was already being written with the inclusion of Mr Crawley and then Master George. That was ripped away from her. It doesn't matter who you are, and what you've done with your life, nothing is ever going to be simple. When I've been sat thinking about my life and the people in it, there was one face that kept coming to my mind. Just one. I've always felt like I've never been complete, and so my sole focus in life was to work. I've always wanted to climb the ladder, and that's what I did, but at the cost of what? I now know that in doing this job I would find someone that meant the world to me, that the wasted years of hard work was in fact, nothing short of the fact. This person would make me so very happy without ever doing a thing. I think about them every day when I wake up, and every day when I go to sleep. They fill my mind, they fill my hopes and I see them in very high regard. I've had opportunities to tell them how I feel, and I've never been able to draw enough strength to do it. Like you, I realised a long time ago that I cared for them. It was a simple moment, nothing special, but I knew then that they were the person that I knew was the missing piece to my life. Life does get in the way, things get pushed to the side, and it's times like these that show you what means the most."

Carson was struggling to make the point he had set out to give, so he sighed, he was just going to have to come out with it. Although he liked to dress up his sentences and create elegance to his words, sometimes it just needed to be said as plain as a blade of grass. "Oh, I'm making a meal of this. My comprehension of the English Language seems to have evaporated from my tongue. The point I want to make is, never feel sorry for expressing your true emotions because you never know what might come of them. If these chances aren't taken then you will never know the impact that they might have on another person. On me." Carson exhaled and fixed his gaze on her. "What I'm trying to say is...Is that I love you, Elsie Hughes. You are the one that I think of when I go to sleep and when I wake up in the morning. You are the one that I have missed whilst I am here, and you are the one that fills my life with light. Hearing you speak like that, and in such a way that is directed _to_ me and not _at_ me, has filled me with inexplicable happiness. I don't want you to think that I'm only saying this in retaliation to you speaking your heart-felt truth to me. I had had a stern conversation with myself and said that the next time that you graced me with your presence, I was going to tell you. It seems in some strange story-like twist, that you beat me to the prize."

Carson couldn't contain the overwhelming urge he had to touch her, so he reached out and took her hand in his. The skin on her hands was soft, even though she had worked so hard for all of those years, and they were warm. To be able to touch her when they were both finally on the same page made him feel the burn of tears at the corner of his eyes. Then she pulled his hand into her face, letting it cradle her cheek as she leant into him. The grip she had on his wrist was strong like she never wanted to let him go, and he felt a tear fall down his face. A small sniff erupted from behind his hand and he made out the free-flowing tears that were running down her cheeks. Whether they were tears of happiness or sadness, he couldn't help but reach out and wipe one away, even though he had his own now making tracks down his face. It took a lot to move him from his normally robust-self, but this was something he had never thought would happen because he put propriety ahead of his happiness. This was like a dream had come true, and a part of him wondered if he had never woken up in the first place from his head injury. The heart in his chest beat for her and belonged to her, but he now knew that this was coming from the other side too. This was going to be Carson's happy ending. Mrs Hughes had sung the song to unlock his heart, and now he was the happiest man on the planet.


	24. Chapter 24

**I hope you're all keeping well. I'm glad this chapter didn't end up being as big as the last one haha I hope you enjoy :) Have a great evening :)**

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Cora ran her hands through Robert's hair as he snoozed ignorantly by her side. Lying on his stomach, with his head resting on her chest, he lay peacefully with his mouth slightly ajar. Watching him sleep left her feeling full with love, the innocence and vulnerability of her sleeping husband making her feel content at the sight of it. Since the night where he had been out looking for Mary, he would reach a certain point in the evening and he would flake almost on cue. That's when she would drag him off to bed for the night so he could get some rest, much to his dismay and annoyance. It was obvious though, as soon as he got into bed, that he was thankful for it. As he rested into the pillows, or into her, he would relax and go limp as he let the tiredness wash over him. When they had gotten into bed, both of them feeling weary from the day, he had taken her hand and pulled her against him so he could rest his chin on her head. The comfort in feeling his body against her made her smile, and it hadn't taken long for her to hear the light snore as he had drifted off. Then, she had carefully moved away from him and gently moved him until he was flat on his back. It had barely woken him, and when his eyes had peered sleepily at her, all he had done was smile, reach out for her hand and pull it against him like a comforting teddy bear. The days had been stressful over recent months, and during the day he had developed an almost permanent state of pensiveness. At least when he was asleep it seemed to evaporate from his features, and he looked calm and peaceful.

As Cora sat there, her eyes tired, she tried to gauge what time it was. The problem with living at the Abbey, and it had been a stark contrast to her life before, was the enveloping darkness that night time brought. In America, and when she had first stayed in London, she remembered that there always seemed to be something that went on at night. There was always a glow from the street lights outside or the sound of passing people on their way to work. Obviously, her family had money, but the huge home they had in the States wasn't sat in acres of rolling green hills. They lived in the city, had a home in the American version of the country, but even then there was almost a hum of life around the house. Downton was much different. At night it seemed to be the only thing in living existence, as if it absorbed the noise and sounds from anything that came within inches of the front door. Surrounded by the Yorkshire hills, the only light source came from Downton itself, and so as she stared into her room she could hardly make out a thing. If she put the light on, it would be like staring into the sun, and she didn't want to wake her sleeping husband. In the distance, she could hear a very quiet ticking noise that was emanating from a clock, and it was reminding her incessantly that the hours were not moving as quickly as she had hoped.

Sleep had not been an issue when she had gotten into bed, and once Robert was snoozing next to her she had found that she had drifted off almost instantly. Having him by her side always made her feel at ease, and the peacefulness that came with it helped her feel comfortable enough to drift blissfully into a deep and undisturbed sleep. Not that evening though. Sleep had arrived in a welcoming fashion, but when she had started dreaming she had felt like she had forgotten to do something. It was like something important had been forgotten, and even in her dream, she had a real sense of anxiety over whatever it was. Then, as she had moved into the next part of her dream she had pictured 2 envelopes. That was enough to start her from her dream and have her staring up at the darkness that was her room. When she had calmed herself and had reached out to feel Robert next to her, she had gone through what she thought it meant. It had dawned on her, almost instantly, that she had never opened the letters that Tom had given to her earlier in the day. They had been caught up in so much that she had told herself that she was going to give herself some proper time to read them before bed. Then, with Robert wanting her close and her feeling content in his arms, she had completely forgotten about it. When she had seen the cursive writing that she knew to be Mary's, glaring up at her from the envelope, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that it was something important. The words that had to be in the letter had to be something that Mary could not feel she could say to their faces, and that in itself was something unusual because Mary was normally brazen with her words and never had an issue telling people what she thought. Well, not until Matthew died anyway. What could possibly be in the letters that could be so hard for her to say? Cora had an idea, of course she did, she was Mary's mother, and that alone had set her mind reeling through the various things it could be. Now she had thought about the letters, they went through her mind like a train, and she knew that she was going to have to read the one addressed to her. That would require her to put a light on. They were on the table next to her bed, so the only thing she had to worry about was the fact that the light might wake Robert. Cora wanted him to get as much rest as he could.

Leaning to the side slowly, so as not to make sudden movements to wake her sleeping husband, she reached blindly for the light switch. When she felt the dangling string, she gripped it and pulled it down, the room erupting into a warm yellow glow. Instantly, she turned her head to look down at Robert, who was unfaltering in his sleep. Lifting her left arm, she wrapped it around his head and cradled it against her. When her hand cupped his cheek, she rested her fingers on his chin and rubbed it with her thumb. The hand of his that was snaked over her waist twitched, and she kissed her finger before pressing it on his forehead. It would have been nicer to kiss him on the forehead directly, but because of where he was if she leant too far down she would likely wake him.

The paper of the envelope felt cool in contrast to the warm cocoon she was sat in, and she managed to get it open with just the use of her right hand. It would have been easier to use her other hand, but it was nice to have it rest against Robert's soft face. There was a light stubble growing, that would be gone in the morning when he had a shave, but his skin was so soft, it was like silk against her fingers between the tiny spikes that were growing.

Unfolding the letter in her hand, she tilted it towards the light so she could see the words a little clearer. Robert's cheek twitched, and she soothed him with her finger as she leant closer to the light. There was a sense of dread in her stomach like she knew that she wasn't going to like what she was going to read, but it wouldn't stop her. If this was going to be the way that she found out what was going on in her Daughter's head, it was better that she read it than be in the dark about the whole thing.

"_My Dearest Mama, _

_It hurts, Mama. It hurts more than I thought anything ever could. Every single breath reminds me of my wonderful husband, and what a man I have lost from my life. _I write this during the darkest days of my life, my thoughts no longer my own and my heart irreparably broken. _I have made a decision, and I know that you won't agree with it, but it's something I feel is the only escape from feeling this way. Everything seems dark, everything seems impossible, and functioning on the most basic level seems above me. I want you to understand firstly that this decision is my own, and is something that I can not be swayed from. I don't want you to feel guilty, even though I know you will, because you feel so deeply, Mama. _

_I know that you understand this grief that betrays me, poisons me and moves me away from the cold fearless person you all know me to be. Sybil passing knocked you sideways, and now I know what pure grief feels like, I know that we let you down in helping you through it. I'm sorry, Mama, I'm genuinely sorry. We are made of different things though, and so how we handle grief is different. I think a lot of people assume that you are soft, but I believe that you are stronger than people give you credit for. I see that so much more now. You're kind, Mama, kinder and purer than I could ever be. You are resilient. You have survived a change in worlds, a change in times, and you have come out a lot stronger because of that. I don't think any of us have appreciated what you have done for this family over the years, and taken advantage of you and your kindness. I know that in our eyes, American's are more emotional in comparison to the British Aristocratic stiff upper lip. I admire how much you have brought this emotion out in all of us, and I think you have made the family better for it. Don't let anyone ever make you feel that feeling is wrong. I admire the way you didn't conform, even to Granny's expectations, to our aristocratic ways like they expected you to. I think our lives would have been much different if you had. I can tell by the way that you are with Papa, how you show him your love with affection, that you love deeply. We love deeply, Mama, you and I. I think that's one of the things I inherited from you. I think that's why I have fallen into the deepest pit of grief because I loved Matthew so strongly that losing him has left me broken. I miss Matthew, Mama. I miss him with every breath, every touch, and every single thing in this world reminds me of him. I can't bear it. I can't breathe. I can't see straight. I can't feel anything outside of this pain. I feel suffocated. I know you' ll try to understand me because you always try your hardest to understand us even if you can't. We are different, but yet we are the same. _

_I remember how you were when we lost Sybil. You were distant for so long, you were angry with Papa, and you were angry at the injustice of her death. I feel that. You were strong though, and even though you were angry with Papa, you had him to pull you out of the agony. Matthew is gone and I have nothing. _

_I wrote this letter because I know you'll carry the burden of the guilt that you didn't do anything to stop this. As a mother, you'll be disappointed that you couldn't protect me. I don't want you to feel that. I want you to feel peace with my decision because no matter what, I am stubborn and do what I feel, even at the expense of others. I love you, Mama. I want you to pass on to George the soft caring nature that you have. It was the same as Matthew, and I know you'll do a wonderful job. Please love and watch over Papa as I know he'll feel this strongly, but he'll do his best to seem like he is ok. _

_My whole world has crashed around me, and I feel like I am on a desert island with no hope of escape. I feel like I will never be free. The grief has encapsulated my heart within an icy case, and I no longer have Matthew, who had melted my heart without me realising. I am the epitome of hopelessness. I am lost, I am alone and I am in pain. Now you don't have to worry about me any longer. I'll be free. _

_I love you, Mama, I really do. Forever and always. _

_Mary."_

Cora felt her bottom lip begin to quiver as she tried to blink away the tears that were filling her eyes like a bathtub. Goosebumps spread down her arm as her hairs began to stand on end, and she held the letter against her chest as if she were trying to remove the pain from what it was trying to say. The letter had confirmed what she had feared, and now she didn't quite know what to do with herself. Mary had obviously wanted to explain, to show her what she had been feeling to help Cora understand. It was something she likely knew that she couldn't put into words in her presence.

"Oh my darling," she whispered as the tears began to fall down her cheeks. It felt like her heart was breaking as she envisioned Mary sat writing the letter, and the way she must have been feeling to even contemplate, let alone act on, the obvious pain in her core. Cora knew she should have done more to try and take that pain away from her, try and understand her, and navigate her through it with as much love and attention as she could. It was Mary though, and Cora knew that she had done her best to keep herself away from people. Unless she had forced her to comply, there was only so much she could have done. Even though she knew that it didn't stop her feeling hurt by the words. The eldest of her daughters, the strong and unwavering woman who had taken her life and role with ferocity and passion, had contemplated taking herself out of the equation. As a mother, this was one of the hardest things to come to terms with. Even more so because she had done nothing to stop it in the first place. Maybe if she had spent more time with her?

Cora thought back to when she had lost Sybil, and how she had felt lost in the sadness, so she knew what it could do to someone. Mary had been astute enough to realise that although Cora had been so angry with Robert, he had also been the one to get her through it. If Cora hadn't had Robert by her side, how would it have panned out in the end?

The emotions from reading the letter, and the stark reminder of her darling Sybil, and how she had nearly lost her other daughter made her begin to cry quite ferociously. The sadness, guilt and slither of anger began an uprising in her chest that made her place the letter back onto the table and cover her face with her hands. If Carson hadn't found her, things would be very different right now. Were these feelings gone now? Had Mary moved out of the fog after her failed attempt?

The crying was hard to hold in, and she felt Robert begin to stir against her so she tried to soothe him by rubbing his face. Then she felt his arm move away from her waist and he squinted up at her as he realised that the light was on. "Darling?" he croaked, pushing himself upwards until his head was level with hers. When he was able to focus on her, it taking a moment to move the sleep from his eyes, he saw that she was upset and he reached out to take her hand. "My Darling, whatever is the matter?"

Cora sniffed and felt his arms wrap around her and bring her against his chest. The other letter on the table was addressed to him, and she knew that it would likely encase a similar sentiment and feeling. Robert was quite a sensitive man, and she knew that if he read the words in that letter he would be heartbroken. The loss of Sybil had left him a changed man, and she could always see the way his face contorted at the sound of her name in conversation. To know that the true intentions of his Mary would be too much for him to handle. It would likely make him angry and upset, and Cora didn't think he could deal with it without first being angry. When he did get angry, he often didn't mean what he said, and the last thing she wanted was for him to hurry off in a rage to confront Mary about her actions. Maybe he would see it as weakness? Maybe he wouldn't be able to comprehend the fact that she had purposefully wanted to do what she had did? Cora didn't think that it was the right time, if there was ever going to be one, to let him know the real truth. It had shaken him enough to get over the ordeal of going out to find her, let alone to know the truth and look at Mary in the same way. Cora wanted to protect him, because really, did he need to know? Cora wanted to read the letter for herself. Now was not the time to mention it. "I had a horrible dream," she lied.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, squeezing her tighter into him and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "What a thing to wake up to! I was worried something was seriously wrong." Robert rubbed her back with his hand and brought the blanket up closer to her neck. "It was just a dream, my love."

Cora nestled herself into him, feeling the comfort in his embrace as he cradled her against him. "I know. It was so real though, so true, I just couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness that came with it."

"What was it about?" he asked delicately.

"It was about Sybil. It reminded me about how awful the time after was and how angry I had been. I don't know what I would have done without you." Cora pulled as much truth into the scenario as she could because after all, the letter had reminded her of that.

Robert kissed her again on her head. "A time I don't think I'll ever truly get over. I'm just glad we didn't have to experience that again with Mary. It's not worth thinking about. Go back to sleep, darling. I'll stay awake until you're sleeping peacefully again."

Cora smiled and tilted her head up to give him a kiss. "I love you."

"Not as much as I love you," Robert replied, continuing to rub her back with his hand.

Cora knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep until she had seen Mary. Once Robert had fallen back to sleep she was going to go down the hospital. It didn't matter if it was late, and it didn't matter if Mary was asleep, Cora knew she had to talk to her about the letter. As a mother, how could she settle knowing the true intentions of her daughter's actions? She had to speak to her and know if that intention was still there. No matter how difficult the conversation, and how difficult it was to understand, some truths had to be spoken. If Cora couldn't get to the bottom of it she would have to go to Dr Clarkson and they would have to use the approach of getting involved with the psychiatrists if only to make sure that Mary was ok. As she lay there against Robert she closed her eyes and waited patiently for him to think that she was asleep. After a number of minutes, she felt him delicately shift them both downwards so they were lying flat, and he gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before moving away and pulling the covers up and around her.

"I love you so very much," he whispered, assuming that she was asleep.

Cora had to refrain herself from reacting, even if she felt her heart expand with love for him as he looked after her. Doing this was to protect him, she rationalised with herself, and she would make sure that if he did read the letter that it was at the right moment. Now all she had to do was wait for him to drift off so she could sneak out and head down to the hospital. It wouldn't take long.

* * *

Mary had felt a little anxious when she had returned to her room to let Mrs Hughes get on with whatever it was she had come out for. There was something about the way that she had looked that had made Mary curious. Very curious. It was dark outside so she didn't have anything to look at, and when she had tried to settle herself by reading, she found that she couldn't concentrate. It was impossible to keep still, so she got up and decided to go for another walk. What she could do was walk past and see if she could see anything, to quieten her mind and help her relax for the evening. The overwhelming urge to pry was niggling at the back of her mind. It felt like something important was going to happen, and even when she tried to rationalise what she thought it was, it just didn't ease. The desire to find out if her inkling was correct was much more than a selfish desire to know what's going on. Mary could find out what she wanted if she forced it, but it was more the idea that she wanted to confirm her thoughts and ideas about what was going on between them. It wasn't personal gain, which Edith would say it was for, it was because she wanted to know that Carson had someone in his life that was his, that would love him, care for him and give him someone as his own family. Carson deserved it more than anyone she knew. Years of service and dedication to her, and to Downton, had left him without a companion. There was something about having someone that was your own that made life so much better, and she knew the pang of loss from losing it, but also the warmth and joy that it bought. Carson deserved more than she could ever give him, as all she could really give him was job security and money. What did that amount up to really?

Rounding the corner she could hear a murmur of voices, but they were very low, and it confirmed to her that the door hadn't been shut behind Mrs Hughes as she had entered. This made her lift her feet up and deposit them down slowly, like a tip toe she used to do as a child. As she moved quietly down the hall, she could hear her heart beating in her ears, as if it was trying to block her out from hearing anything interesting. It seemed difficult to try and not make a decibel of sound. Mary was used to not having to make excuses for what she was doing and rarely had to make herself hidden from anyone. This just felt delicate, and almost naughty, because she was prying on someone else's business. She had to keep rationalising with herself that it was fine because it wasn't for personal gain, just knowledge and confirmation. Closer and closer she got, like a mouse flitting around in the night, moving to her destination.

Placing her hand on the wall, she leant herself forward and peeped ever so slightly around the corner. The shadows of night time worked in her favour, providing extensive camouflage. What she saw made her stomach jump. Carson had his hand on Mrs Hughes' cheek, cradling her head against it. Mrs Hughes had her face away from him, but she could see that she had her hand on Carson's wrist and his hand. Carson was looking at her, and the angle that his head was at was not enough to see the fullness of his expression, but from what she could see, he was beaming. Carson, the Butler of Downton, was glowing with pride and happiness.

That was all Mary needed. There was a warm feeling manifesting in her stomach, and she realised that it was the smallest slither of happiness. It was something she hadn't felt for some time. It was almost a selfless happiness, feeling content and positive about someone else's fortune. Mary approved, and she had to make sure that Carson knew. No matter what her Papa thought, no matter what anyone else thought, if this was the thing that could make Carson happy, then other people's opinions be damned. Carson saved her life and had served the family with a fierce loyalty for as long as she could remember. If the family could not support him, then this would have to be something that Mary resolved. Not a chance would she stand by and watch anyone get in the way of their happiness. Mrs Hughes may not be warm to Mary, and they may have had differences, but for Carson to show such fondness showed a character that must be explored. Maybe Mary just hadn't given her enough of a chance? Carson was a good judge of character, he must have been to be so dedicated to her, so Mrs Hughes must be special for him to think so highly of her.

When Mary thought about it deeper for just a second, moving backwards and out of sight, she hoped that Mrs Hughes wouldn't try and alter Mary's standing in Carson's eyes. Then she shook her head, Carson wouldn't allow that, and that was just her own selfish thoughts creeping back into her mind. No. Mary would have to telephone Tom so she could share this news because it was wonderful. It wasn't concrete, she knew, but why else would Carson be holding Mrs Hughes' face is such an adoring manner?

Mary moved silently back towards her room, feeling herself smile at the sight she had witnessed. When she got towards the top of the stairs she heard footsteps and turned herself to look down at whoever was coming.

"Mary!" she heard the soft voice of her Mama.

Mary squinted and could see the wide-eyed expression of her Mother, and she knew instantly that this visit was off the back of her letter. "Mama? It's late!"

Cora got to the top of the stairs and took Mary's hand. "We need to talk, and I couldn't wait until morning."

Mary nodded knowingly and began walking back towards her room, feeling the strength of the grip that her Mama had on her hand. This was going to be difficult, she could tell.


	25. Chapter 25

**Well, it's a Sunday, and I've managed to get this chapter done a week early. I've been working to a 2 week deadline for each chapter because work has been so hectic. I had to jiggle some things around, as this was going to come later, but I felt that it fitted so much better at this point. So here we are :) Thanks again for all your support. **

* * *

The room was completely silent aside from the sound of the wind picking up outside of Mary's window as if it was suddenly roused by the anxiety she was feeling. In front of her sat her Mama, who was staring directly into her eyes with a worried and unfaltering gaze. It left her feeling a little unnerved, like her mother was boring into her core with unvocalised questions, and weighing up her current state of mind with nothing but a look. It was difficult to maintain eye contact with that level of exuded intensity, so Mary looked down at her hands as she fiddled with her fingers. It was obvious that her Mama was trying to understand her, to try and make sense of what she had read in the letter. It felt like she had taken the plunge and written those letters a long time ago, and although Mary knew the idea behind them, she didn't recall the exact terms and words used. They were uninhibited, pure, and something she knew she would never be able to delicately verbalise accurately.

Cora took in a breath, and Mary looked up expectedly like her Mama was going to speak. Instead, Cora grimaced and reached into her pocket to take the letter out. The grip that she had on it was tight, and the paper crinkled under the duress of her hands as she held onto it. When she looked up, their eyes connecting, Mary could see the sadness sitting there like a lighthouse in a fog. Mary felt very guilty. She had known that her actions would have impacted several people in her life, and coming to terms with the aftermath and ramification of this had been a bitter pill to swallow. Not only had it impacted the obvious people in her life, but many others and the ripples seemed to continue moving through her world. They had lost Sybil, and Mary had put her Mama in the situation of almost losing another child. She couldn't comprehend the anguish and sadness associated with that as it was a Mother's love, and although she had George, she hadn't maternally connected with him as she should have. It wasn't his fault she had been so lost in herself she had not been able to love him as she had meant to. George was her purpose now, and she was sure that over time she would be able to understand the love for her son, and then understand more how her Mama was truly feeling. Mary was broken, but she was also aware, able to function and drive forward in a linear fashion much better than she had for a very long time. Carson had helped her see what she had to do, what she was there for, and how she needed to focus herself to keep herself going in the right direction. It was hard, of course it was hard, and she had had many moments when she had faltered, but she had to do this for Matthew, for George and her family. The support for her was there, and now she had to realise it truly and accept it when she needed it. These people hadn't offered support for the sake of it, to save face and do their part because they were expected to. No, they did it because they cared.

Cora had flattened the letter out and placed it ahead of her so she could read it again. On the drive over, she had squinted and painstakingly tried to read it over and over, trying to understand and see positives within it. It was hard, and there wasn't much she could take out of it that left her feeling optimistic. It had been nice to read how Mary thought she was strong and had been successful in navigating into this new world, but Cora didn't feel it most of the time, often doubting herself before anyone had the chance to do it for her. The words were intended to be comforting, to give Cora a boost to dampen the painful message that it was trying to give. This in itself was not like Mary, who rarely said anything to reduce the feelings of another, to try and make someone feel better. Normally she got her point across regardless of how it made someone feel, she was coarse like that sometimes, and it was something as a mother that Cora had struggled with. Robert was reasonably direct, but he had a very warm and kind heart with the best intentions within all of his actions, even if they were wrong. Cora liked to think that she was also kind, and liked to take into account people's feelings before she made a decision. Mary, and often Edith, had always shown a bitter side that seemed to skip over these traits like a train. Not always, they were both good girls really, but they had a nasty side to them that often made Cora's heart hurt. There had been a few times when she had tried to rationalise this behaviour, putting it down to various scenarios and situations that were at hand. It reminded her of her mother-in-law, the bitter streak that had no filter, that ran through the world like a raging bull who took no prisoners. What got her more than most of the thoughts was that Mary, the pragmatic and fearless woman, had found herself at the bottom of a very dark hole with no way out. The strong girl she had always known had given up, and that hurt her so deeply. Sybil was taken from their world with such force and without an option that it felt like Mary making such a decision was injustice on poor Sybil. Why choose that option when Sybil had been stripped of her life without even a second thought?

The words in the letter burrowed into her eyes, and she felt herself begin to get upset again. "Why, Mary?" she said as quiet as a whisper as she tried her hardest not to cry.

Mary felt sick, watching as her Mama's eyes pleaded with her to give her some clarity and justification for her actions. It was like the words in the letter, although likely as explanatory as she could ever muster, were not enough for her Mama to understand. Did her Mama not believe her words? Were they not direct enough? Or was it that her Mama was hopeful that it was all just a mistake? There seemed to be no words at the back of her throat, and all she could do was hang her head and fiddle with her fingers again.

"Mary," Cora pleaded. "Please. I'm your mother, and I just want to understand. This letter isn't you. The words are poignant, reassuring almost, complimentary and beautiful. It's not you though. This isn't you." The last sentence had come out louder than she had anticipated, and she dropped her hands with the letter into her lap.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Mary whispered sadly.

"Oh, Darling," Cora replied, moving her chair so she was as close as she could get to the bed without hitting her knees. "I don't doubt that you are." Cora placed the letter onto the bedside table and reached out to take her daughter's hand. "Was it that bad? Could you not have come to us? We all love you. We would have done whatever it had taken."

Mary could feel the strength of the grip on her hand like her Mama was scared that she was going to let go and vanish again. How could she tell her Mama that it didn't matter what anyone would have done or said? Because she was so lost that she wouldn't have been able to compute it enough to approach the subject? That even the love of her mother was not enough to prevent her from wanting to finish it all. Nobody's opinions mattered. Nothing anyone could have said would have made it go away. Even if they had bolted the door shut she would have found a way to get out. The letter would have said exactly that, she was sure of it, but her Mama wanted to hear it for herself. It was like the words, even though they were as true as she could write, were not enough, couldn't be associated with Mary's real inner voice. Of course, a mother has intuition and knows their daughter's probably better than they know themselves for the most part. When your mind isn't your own, and you try and convey feelings and emotions into word form, there's potential for them to come across as alien. The uninhibited emotion in the words was a form of a person that nobody ever got to witness, so of course, they seemed like they weren't her own.

"I can't fully express to you the level of hopelessness and sadness I felt at that moment I wrote that. There are no words that could fully depict and make you understand how little control I had over my mind. I know you understand to a point though, Mama, because you lost Sybil. Our darling Sybil was pulled from this world when she should have been enjoying the first moments of her daughter's life. Relishing in the smiles, the cries, the little hands and feet, and the love that a mother has when they first spend time with their child. In a way, we both never got to do that, because no sooner had we seen our child, we were denied any semblance of normality. For Sybil, she was taken far too soon. I was not the same, but the essence was. I couldn't connect with my son because he reminded me so painfully of his Father. Of Matthew. Everything in the house, in the air, on the walls and sky reminded me of him. My heart ached. Aches. I couldn't see over the hill, I couldn't see through the fog and I was not myself, Mama. I am not myself. It's still there within me, and I will not lie to you and tell you that I am fine. I am not ok. I will get through this though, you can believe that. I don't think it matters how much I try, it'll never be enough to make you understand. Remember the pain you felt those weeks after Sybil died? You were so angry and lost. I'm sure if you thought about it now, you couldn't express fully the unadulterated torrent of emotion that you felt at that given moment. It's like me, I can't make you see and feel it, so I need you to understand that it wasn't the people around me that had any influence on my decision. It was all me. It was all I could do to make it stop, Mama. I wanted it to end. I didn't want to be without him." Mary paused and rested her other hand atop of her mothers. "You say that the letter isn't me, that it's not who I am. I think that it is. I think that I have lived behind a mask for so many years I had forgotten what it was to think about other people. I am inherently selfish, and I know that you are all aware of that, which is why the letter seems so foreign. It's not, Mama. That was written when I had nothing at all to lose. I could have lied, I could have said anything, but it was the time to speak truths. No matter how hard. I knew that there would be no repercussions because I was going to go away. So why did it matter? It didn't, Mama. I don't blame you for thinking that the letter was too nice, because I understand that I have lived up to my reputation far more than I should have. I am Lady Mary Crawley, after all."

Cora nodded sympathetically, acknowledging what she was saying. It made sense, it did. "You're my, Mary, darling. And no matter what, I will always love you." It had been hard to read the words in the letter without feeling some semblance of guilt that she hadn't been able to do more to stop her feeling that way. As a mother, she should never have to hear those words or ideas about her daughter. Although it hurt to hear the words, Cora was thankful that after everything, her daughter was still with her. This meant that she had to do whatever it took to keep it that way. The reason why she had shot over to see her was that she wanted to understand, but not only that, she had been worried that it was an idea that her daughter had yet to abandon. Rationalising that in her head now that she was there sitting in front of Mary, if her daughter had wanted to go anywhere she would have by now when nobody was looking. "I can't bear to think about losing you, and I won't rest until I know that you are beyond all that now."

"Mama-"

"No, please. I can't tell you how hard it was to read your words. I feel like I have failed you as a mother. In your hour of need, I didn't realise that you were in so much pain. I knew you were grieving, and I know that we go through that in different ways. I should have been there to help and guide you. British aristocracy to one side, if you needed me to be there then I would have. I want us to be honest with each other, because really if we don't have each other than we have lost the war. The family fights to keep Downton alive and well, don't we? We need to be united and together. I want us to be open, no matter how hard it might be. You have so many people who love and care about you, Mary, and I think it's more than you had initially realised. You, my darling, and your sisters and Papa have always been my world. Don't forget that you have an inner core that is made from the strongest steel. You fight for what you believe in and march to the beat of your drum. I need you to promise me that you're done with this."

Mary knew that that was the ultimate question, the reason as to why her Mama had made the trek down in the middle of the night. She was worried that it wasn't the end, that Mary was going to vanish into the night and do it all again. She was sure that her Mama couldn't take it again, and she wanted to know, by looking into her eyes that she was ready to try and leave the fog behind. "Mama, I can't promise that this is all over. The feeling appears sometimes, the agony isn't going away but I know what my purpose is now. I owe Carson a great deal. Without him, I wouldn't be in this position. I am going to strive forward for George. Don't think I'm not doing it for you all, because in a way I am, but it was the thought of my son and of Matthew that got me here. If Matthew had been in the same position as me he would never give up. Matthew would have put everything into bringing up George as I wanted, as well as his wishes. I need to do that for him. I have to. I can't let him down. I am going to take each hour and day as it comes. I will battle, and I will force myself as best I can. I will promise you like I have promised Anna, and like I have told Tom, that I will come to you if I need help."

Cora had paid more attention to the look in Mary's eyes than the words she had spoken. They were good to hear, of course they were, but it was the spark of confirmation and strength that appeased her. When she had turned up she had noticed that Mary had moved further towards herself than she had in a while, and in the beginning when she had first awoken in the hospital Cora had seen just how absent she had still been. The change was minuscule, but it was enough to see that she was moving in the right direction. "We love you, Mary. The English don't say these things enough. I know we are all missing you up at the house, and I think it would be nice to have you home."

"You say everyone, but I guarantee that it's not the case for Edith," Mary replied coolly, raising her eyebrow just slightly to convey her reaction accurately.

"I'm not sure you're right about that," Cora retorted with a hint of annoyance in her voice. The way her daughters fought made her sad sometimes. "In fact, she has been acting a little off since this all happened."

"I have to admit that I do miss being home a little. At the same time, I feel safer here, from myself that is. When I'm wandering the corridors, climbing the stairs, sitting at the table to eat I am nearly always reminded of Matthew. The house is tainted, and I don't want you to think I'm badmouthing our home. I love it. I just feel that it's hard for me to be there. I like the simplicity here. I'm left alone. Now that Carson is awake I can go and see him as often as I want, and it's good for me, Mama. Carson is good for me."

Cora nodded. It was obvious that both Mary and Carson had an unusual relationship. It wasn't wrong and it wasn't counter-productive to the home. Cora had always found it quite sweet. Mary had been brought up to be and act in a certain way, to do things properly. The relationship between her and the Butler, in some people's eyes, wasn't proper. To have respect and love for a member of staff isn't conforming to the usual household standings. However, Carson cared deeply for her daughter. Cora had watched it over the years with a great fascination and always kept a few paces away to observe their interaction. There was more to Carson than most people gave him credit for. Of course, he was strict, proper and dedicated, but he was loyal, kind and soft underneath his hard exterior. They were a good match as friends. Carson often gave Mary the advice that she needed to hear. Robert and Carson were different, and yet the same, as they both adored her but the interest at heart was on a different level. Carson cared for Mary and only wanted what was best for her and there was never a hidden agenda in his words. Robert loved her fiercely as a father did, but he had the weight of his role and the world sometimes that would often underlie his decisions and advice. "How is he doing? I know your Father really wants to spend some time with him. I know he wants to thank him somehow."

"Oh, I think he's doing much better. I think we all need to thank him, and I have a few ideas on how we can do that." Mary smirked a little as she thought about Carson and Mrs Hughes. "I think I want to stay until Carson can come home."

Cora nodded as if she understood. It was a nice gesture. "I can't say that I mind you staying here a little longer. I suppose I just miss having you close." Cora folded the letter up.

"I'm not a child any more, Mama," Mary chided playfully, straightening herself up in the bed like a child would if they said such words.

"You'll always be my baby, Mary, whether you like it or not. You'll understand that soon enough."

Mary had realised that they hadn't spoken about her Papa. In a logical sense, if one had read the letter then the other would likely have too. Why had he not come down? Was he so angry that he couldn't bear to see her? "How is Papa?"

Cora smiled tiredly at her daughter, feeling the worry and tension leaving her body momentarily as she realised that they might just be over the hill that this battle had been. "Oh, he's not bad I suppose. It has taken it out of him though. I have to drag him to bed quite early every evening because I know he needs the rest. Whether your father likes it or not, he is not as young as he used to be. The weather was horrendous that night, Mary, and I'm glad that you weren't deeply affected by it. It'll probably take a little while for him to get his energy back. The exhaustion was emotional as well as physical. He is stubborn like you though, so I know he'll be ok."

"And with the letter?" Mary was worried that he had reacted badly to it, and that was the reason as to why he hadn't been down.

Cora turned her gaze away when she realised that this was what Mary had meant initially. They were being honest, so she had to be as such if she wanted her daughter to follow in suit. "I still have the letter."

"He didn't want to read it, did he?" Mary sad dejectedly. "It was too much, wasn't it?"

"Oh, no, not at all. In all honesty, Tom gave them to me earlier in the day and I placed them by the side of the bed so I could read them before we went to sleep. Your father was so tired, and I completely forgot about them. That's why I came so late. I awoke so suddenly when I remembered about them. Then I read it and I had to come down. I just don't think that I can let him read it just yet. I want to let all this settle. I want you home. As much as your father thinks that he isn't, he's fragile at the moment. I don't want you to feel any blame, Mary, so please disregard that if you are. I just think with the stress of everything that has been going on, I want to give him time to get himself there. I know my husband, and I know given his current state of mind and tiredness that he will fly off the bat and be angry. You know as well as I that he feels things deeply, and he will feel angry and hurt. I know that the words will upset him. Don't think ill of me for doing so."

"Mama, I of all people am in no position to think ill of anyone for their actions or decisions. I see your point. I do worry he will be so very disappointed in me for what I did once he knows the truth." Mary sighed and leant into her pillows in a dejected manner.

"Oh, Mary, your Papa adores you. You're his firstborn child for goodness sake. He can have the letter, I promise he will read it. I just think now is not the right time." Cora smiled encouragingly and squeezed Mary's hand as a gesture to reiterate that encouragement. "Do you want to give it to him?"

Mary shook her head quickly. "I don't think I could witness his reaction. No, I trust you to find the right time to give it to him." Imagining the look on her Papa's face made her feel sick, the way his face would drop when he realised what it meant.

Cora nodded. "I'm very glad I came down I have to say. I feel much more confident now."

Mary brought herself back to the room, shaking away the picture of the sad look on her Papa's face from her mind. There was no point worrying about it now because she couldn't do anything about it. The best she could do was destroy the letter, but she wanted her Papa to be on the same page as everyone else. There would be no point hiding it because when he did find out he would react even more than if he read the letter for himself. "Good. I think you should go back and try and get some rest."

"You'll be ok?" Cora queried. "I can stay. It won't be the first time I have sacrificed sleep in my life. I don't mind. It doesn't feel like I have seen you nearly enough as I should have."

"Don't be silly," Mary objected. "No, please, go and get some rest."

Cora smiled. "I'll get going then."

Mary swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet. "Let me walk with you. I'm not tired just yet so I can give my legs a stretch as we go."

Cora got to her feet and put the letter away. "I hope it's not been too lonely here on your own?"

Mary let her Mama match her pace as they began their walk towards the stairs. "Not at all. There is always someone about. I have my book and I am in and out of Carson's room keeping him company. I have had visitors. It's all been quite fine."

"Good."

They walked relatively slowly, chatting idly as they made their way towards the stairs. It was nice that they could talk so freely, and Cora felt a burden release from her shoulders when she knew that Mary was going to be ok. It was going to be hard, she knew that for herself, but she felt so much more confident than she had in a while. Things would hopefully get back to some semblance of normality soon, although Cora had enjoyed the quietness. They hadn't kept up with their routine as closely as they should, and she had liked the fact that she had been able to spend more time with her husband. The little things had been more pronounced, the little touches, the embraces and the talking.

As they got towards the stairs, a draft channelling up from the floor below, they noticed someone just about to take the stairs and leave. "Mrs Hughes?" Cora said, her tone rising to mirror the confusion at seeing the head housekeeper out so late. "I wasn't expecting to see you here at this time of night!"

Mrs Hughes, being startled by the voice, let her grip slack on the bannister as she righted herself and stopped herself from descending them. Moving her focus from the stairs, she raised her eyes to see them walking in her direction. "I came to see how Mr Carson was doing. The house was settled for the evening."

"Oh, don't think I'm questioning you, Mrs Hughes," Cora laughed light-heartedly. "It's just late. I was saying the other day that I thought we were working you too hard."

Mrs Hughes nervously glanced at the two women, not quite sure how to take the current situation. What she had wanted to do was slip out of the hospital and get back. Inside she was singing from her head to her toes, and she wanted to let it all settle in her mind. It was a lot to take in, the conversation with her darling man, and she was humming like a bird. "It's fine. There's a lot to do, but I can manage."

"Mama wasn't saying she didn't think you could manage, Mrs Hughes. Forgive her for making it seem like she was insinuating as such. Is there not a way that you can give Mrs Hughes some time off, Mama? I think she is owed for working two jobs?" Mary tried to give Mrs Hughes a friendly smile, the image of Carson cradling her face printed into her mind. There seemed to be a bridge that needed to be built between them, for the sake of Carson. If this was how she would start repaying Carson for his kindness, then she would do what she could.

Cora turned to look at Mary with a puzzled expression. There was something unusual there in her daughter's eyes that she couldn't quite place. It was true though when she thought about it. Mrs Hughes had been looking very tired, and it was noble that she would spend so much time making sure that Carson was ok. Many people cared for him, it seemed. "I suppose we can do something. We can get Barrow to run the house for the morning, give you a chance to rest. I think that's fair?"

Mary turned to look at Mrs Hughes and stared pointedly at her as if she was the maker of this kind gesture. "It must be a while since you have had the chance to have a decent lie-in, Mrs Hughes? I would snap the offer up with both hands."

Mrs Hughes was perplexed. Why was Lady Mary being so kind? And almost forcefully so? She knew that Carson had always said that Mary was kind, but it still didn't sit right. It would be almost rude to decline, and she knew that Thomas would be beside himself once he learnt he had the power to rule, even for a few hours. "Thank you, My Lady, that's very generous."

"How were you getting back?" Mary queried, keeping her gaze on Mrs Hughes. "Mama could find space for you in the car no doubt, isn't that right?"

"Oh, certainly. Of course. You're leaving now, and so am I, so it makes perfect sense." Cora looked between the pair of them and then shrugged. "Shall we?"

"Thank you, My Lady," Mrs Hughes replied, stepping back to allow her to go down the stairs before her.

"Now, go and get some rest, darling," Cora appealed to her daughter. "I'll come back and see you soon. You know where we are if you need anything." She squeezed her daughter's hand before moving her grip to the bannister of the stairs.

"Goodbye, Mama. Goodbye, Mrs Hughes." Mary watched as the walked down the stairs. As she stood there she hesitated, wanting to go and check on Carson but she knew it was late. No, she was going to rest and think about what she was going to do with her new information.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Cora turned to look at Mrs Hughes. "Thank you, Mrs Hughes. I know this must all be quite exhausting for you."

Mrs Hughes was feeling a little bewildered by the whole thing, her mind still reeling from what she had been through that evening. This small talk was not what she wanted or needed. What she did need was her bed, the darkness, and the time to process her thoughts and feelings. "I can manage, My Lady. It's only temporary."

"Yes, you're right," Cora sighed. "Please, take the morning off. I have a feeling it'll be a late breakfast for us in the morning anyway, and Barrow can ensure that everything is managed I'm sure."

"I'll make sure everything is in order, My Lady."

"Oh," Cora sighed. "I do hope we get back to normal soon."

Mrs Hughes wasn't sure if Cora was just verbalising her thoughts, or she was speaking to her, but she felt she had to reply. "Will it ever get back to normal, My Lady?" Of course, she thought that it will in terms of the house. For her though, for her and how her days were going to unfold, she knew that things would never be the same again. In a good way. Who knew what the future held for her and Charlie? They had to broach the topic of acceptance from the very family they served at some point. They would tackle it though, somehow, and that was a question for another day.

"Quite," Cora laughed. "Let's hurry. I can't wait to get back into bed!"

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**I know some might think that giving Mrs Hughes the morning off might be a bit of a stretch, but I felt she needed a break. It was nice to get Mary thinking about doing something positive for her, and it's a start! :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**I finished work today and spent the last few hours writing this. I took the muse and ran with it whilst it was hot :D It's just a quick chapter, but felt it could sit on its own just fine :)**

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Mrs Hughes pulled the covers further upwards so they shielded her from the snap of cold in the air. It was that momentary dip in temperature at night just before the sun finally rose to start a new day. She was exhausted, and sleep bit at her eyes like rabid dogs, but she didn't want to just yet. Defiantly, she pushed it to one side so she could revel in her thoughts and feelings for a few moments longer. Looking upwards to the windows, she wished, and not for the first time, that they were lower. They were high on the wall, and relatively small, and unless you stood on a chair you couldn't see anything out of it but sky. At that moment, her stomach twisting and knotting, she looked out to see the tinge of dawn beginning to make its way into the new day. As she lay there, her mind racing obsessively over the words that Charlie Carson had said to her, she wished she was able to see the colours in contrast to the surrounding land. Having the shadows and silhouettes of the distant parts of the estate helped to contrast the warming colours that were being born in the morning. The subtle blues, pinks, purples and oranges breaking through from the escaping night like someone had slashed the dark blanket that covered the world. Inside, it felt like her heart was breaking through the night for the first time in her life. The sun melting the night time ice that most of her life had been. Charlie Carson had done that. The confirmation of his feelings for her had awoken a different feeling in her, it was new, it was strong and it had reinforced everything she had ever felt since she knew what he meant to her.

If the few hours she had spent with Carson at the hospital was a play reel, she was playing it over and over in her head. It was like she had unlimited tickets to the picture, and she was taking full advantage of the show whilst it was new and fresh. It was so strange that it was showing a part of her life, and not a tale of another for once. It was nice. A smile crept into the corner of her mouth and she lifted her hands and laid them flat on her chest, feeling the slow intake of breath followed by the exhale. Rationalising everything in her head, taking in the world around her and the beating of her heart, she couldn't kid herself that it wasn't real. It was real. It was very real, and Carson held her heart and she held his. The smile got broader, and she stared up as the colour of the sky turned to pink, and a bird flew past the window with haste. Everything seemed beautiful. The dawn was coming at an alarming pace. The anguish and downcast nature of the previous days, the way everything seemed cold and dark had morphed into a newness. This was the dawn of a new day, a new point in her life and an era of love and warmth. Nothing would detract from that whilst she was there and in her thoughts.

Remembering the moment Carson had held her face in his hands sent a tingle through her body, a warm feeling resting in her cheek as if it remembered the way his fingers ran along her skin. They had sat like that for a few minutes before Mrs Hughes had taken his hand and held it tightly between hers. There was a moment, just after, when both of them stared at each other for what seemed an age. Where they both just sat smiling at each other. No words were needed, no actions were required, they were taking in the presence of the other in the realisation that they had shifted into something else. In unison they were dancing on the inside, relishing the feeling of being born from an ember into a fully-fledged fire. The environment hadn't been right before, quelling the ember and preventing it from growing. Once pushed, the fire ignited with pure and ferocious flames.

The quiet footsteps outside signalled to Mrs Hughes that the day was beginning, and she felt guilty at the fact that she was still in bed. Should she just get up and get on with it? Was it worth being in bed when she could be making sure things were going on as they should? After getting the message to Barrow, she knew that she may as well take advantage of just being in her own presence. It was the first time in a few days where she had stomached being in her head. The contrast to how awful she had been feeling to how she felt at that moment was astounding, even to her. What she wanted to do was, without guilt, think about the night before. If she went to start work she might get distracted and forget the details of each perfect moment. Getting an hour or so of sleep would also help if she could manage to calm herself enough to get any.

In one of her drawers, she had an old book that was full of crisp blank pages. It had sat there for a while, and she couldn't remember what it was that she had bought it for. It had remained empty and without purpose for a long time. Wanting to savour the things going around in her head, so that one day she could look back on it and reminisce, she decided she was going to write it down. Not everything, just the parts that she loved. This wasn't something that she could ever have envisioned herself doing, writing into a book like a young girl in her diary, but there were things in life that you needed to savour. So she was going to do it regardless.

As she jumped out of bed she could feel the chill biting at her bare feet as she moved towards her drawers. In terms of possessions, she knew she didn't have much, and each item had its unique resting place. The book was tucked under a pile of neatly folded scarves that had gone past the point of use. They were old, but she knew that they might have come in use someday so she had put them to one side just in case. There was a pencil that was also loitering in the same drawer that she grabbed. Once she had them, feeling a shiver work up her body, she hopped as quickly as she could back into bed. The sheets retained the warmth of her body well, and it didn't take long for her to forget the chill on her feet.

The book was bound with a moss green leather, an intricate Celtic pattern debossed into the smooth surface. Running her fingers over the cover she could make out the indentations with her fingertips, dipping in and out of the various patterns in quick succession. It was good quality and well worth the money she had paid for it. When she had seen it in a shop that she was browsing, she remembered being enamoured by the way it looked against everything around it, and she had gone back for it later in the day. The pages were cream, but they were thick and sturdy. It was the type of page that you could scrawl over and there would be no leak into another page. A decent pen would be better for this sort of paper, but she had to work with what she had. Sliding her fingers under the cover she carefully turned the pages so that she was in the middle. Nobody would ever venture into her room and go through her things, but she felt a little silly having something about her experiences being on the first page of the book. No, she wanted to tuck it in there out of the way. It was not as if what had happened was common knowledge, and she didn't know how and if it ever would be. The implications, the course that it was going to take, and how this would impact their life had not been a topic of conversation. They would be, and she knew that they would have to traverse them when the time came. Not wanting to put a dampener on her spirits, she closed her eyes and pictured his face. "I'm not the best with words, but here goes," she whispered, a bubble of excitement catching in her throat as she let the words out.

_"__Charlie Carson told me he loved me in the softest and sincerest voice I have ever heard him use. _

_The glint in his eye as he locked his gaze with mine sent the butterflies inside ricocheting against my ribs. _

_I cried. It wasn't tears of pain and sadness, like the ones that have burnt within me for so long. They were tears of relief, of happiness, of awe. _

_I never thought that I would truly relish in the softness of the skin on his hands. _

_I have never seen him smile like that. It was broad, it was warm, it was something I can only describe as pure contentment. The creases that lined his face were beautiful and unforced into position._

_I held his hand between mine and ran my thumb over his skin knowing that I was doing so with my true intentions. Nothing was hidden. Nothing was lost. _

_We spoke quietly to each other about anything and everything afterwards. It didn't matter what it was about, it was the realisation that there was more intent behind our words than we had ever expressed. I gave him my everything with every syllable. Nothing was hidden or refrained. It was the most honest I have ever been with him because my feelings were known. I wanted to cry because I felt so happy over being able to talk freely._

_When I got up to leave, he held onto my hand and I knew he wanted me to stay. Someone in this world wants me for me, wants to be with me and near me for who I am...warts 'n all. _

_The piece of his hair that had been out of place was charming, but I knew that it would irritate him. I took my hand and ran my fingers through his hair and made it sit right. It felt so natural that my heart wanted to burst. I looked down at him as I did it, and his mouth just stayed in place, a permanent smile directed at me. _

_When my fingers finished through his hair, I ran my hand down the side of his face and stroked his cheek. He reached up, took my hand between his and kissed the top. Everything exploded. I felt giddy. Me! Felt giddy!_

_As I said goodbye, his hand gripping mine, he swung his feet out of the bed. Standing there before me, regardless of the fact he was in his nightclothes, he wrapped his arms around me. Charlie is tall, his arms long, and he enveloped me against him like a bear. I could feel his heart racing as my ears pressed against his chest, the thudding like you would expect a small bird's heart to hum. He was nervous. I could have stayed there forever. There was something about the way he held me that made me feel safe and warm. I was pressed into him as if he never wanted me to go, and I didn't, but I had to leave. Then I felt his head rest on mine, and he cleared his throat. "All I've ever wanted is this," he whispered in my ear. I took my hands and wrapped them around his back so that I could lock my hands together. I replied to him and said 'Me too.' We stood there for a while until I told him to get himself back into bed, and he chuckled at me, nodded his head and did just that._

_Now I'm lying in my bed, with a morning off, thinking about how badly I want to be with him. I want to hold his hand again. I want to have my head resting against his chest as he holds me. I don't know what this will mean for us if we put this out in the open. I feel happy for the first time in my life. This means more to me than anything else. We won't be alone any longer. I have someone to tackle this world with. Each step will be together, each hurdle we can climb over and everything will be in unison. We can work side by side and live side by side if the luck is in our favour. I feel myself running ahead, but it isn't in vain because I know that he is on the same page as me for the first time. Whatever will be will be, and I know that if I have him in my corner then we will be fine. We will always be fine._

_Normally, when things start going my way, I have an awful habit of doubting and beating myself up. I have promised myself that I will not to do that. Over the space of the last week, I have spent so much time going over my feelings, talking myself into and out of things. I need to keep hold of this feeling because I'm happy. I am so unbelievably happy."_

Mrs Hughes rested the pencil on the page and leant herself back into the pillows, turning her eyes to the window as daylight shone in, signalling that the new day had fully manifested. It was true, she really was happy. It was alien to her, but it felt good nonetheless.

Mrs Hughes lifted her bottom half up and shuffled herself further down into the sheets, straightening out the top blanket and resting her head into the pillows. The pencil sat precariously on the edge of the page as she did, so she grabbed it and placed it on her bedside table. The book itself left a nice pressure on her lap, and she raised it so she could read over it one last time. As she traced her eyes over the words, picturing it in her mind, she sighed a happy sigh and closed the pages together. The pillows on her bed weren't thick, but she knew that if she placed the book underneath she would be able to feel it. It didn't matter though, because knowing it was there was a permanent reminder that it was real. If she woke up after a quick sleep, her mind telling her it was all a dream, she would feel the edge of the book behind her head and be transported back to that moment.

In one quick motion, she lifted herself, tucked the book under her pillow and lay against it. Rather than lying on her back and looking up at the ceiling, she turned onto her side so she was facing the window, staring up at the sky as she watched as clouds moved past, smiling to herself as she did. Her left hand rested beneath her cheek, and her right hand tucked itself under her pillow with her finger resting ever so slightly on the cover of the book. This was real.

Feeling content and warm, she closed her eyes and let the exhaustion wash over her. After just a few moments, her mind tracing the outline of Carson's face, she felt the haziness of sleep begin to make her eyes tight. The blankets pushed against her chin, and she tucked her knees up to her chest as she felt herself sigh. Whether she got one hour or three of sleep, she knew that the day would be one she could tackle. The vision of Carson telling her that he loved her would feed and supply her with energy for many days to come. The jigsaw that was her life was complete for the first time in her life. After a few more moments, sleep finally enveloped her, and if anyone were to walk in and see her, they would see a smile undisturbed by sleep itself.


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank you again for all your positive words :) I am forever grateful :D**

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Mrs Patmore yawned and stirred her cup of tea with a lacklustre level of effort, her eyes stinging at the edges where they had been forced to remain open for a prolonged period. A promise to her friend she had made, and so she had spent the evening waiting up for her to come home. That didn't seem to happen. An hour or so before, she had awoken, face resting on the hard surface of the table, her chin wet with drool, and her hand sitting in a pool of tea. During her sleep, she had knocked her cup of tea over, and she had mourned over the spilt drop before cleaning it up with chagrin, never wanting to waste a drop of the precious nectar. When she had checked the time, she had been unable to stop the thoughts going through her mind. Had Mrs Hughes come back and not realised that she was in there? Had she come back and noticed she was asleep and hadn't wanted to wake her? Or had she not come back at all? Knowing Mrs Hughes and her motherly instincts to the staff, she knew that she would have woken her up and not left her with her head resting flatly on a piece of wood as a pillow.

The issue with staying up past the body's upper threshold was that you got hungry at a far quicker rate. Your body tired, struggling to keep itself functioning, would crave and require sustenance to help facilitate the extended operating hours. On the table, further away, was her tin of special biscuits. The lid was off, and Mrs Patmore had a niggling feeling that she had blindly consumed the contents as she had sat on her own in the kitchen with her book. Stress did funny things to the body, and she had always been an emotional eater, right from a young age. It was probably one of the reasons she had never been able to maintain a svelte figure, at least in her eyes, like Mrs Hughes. Many times had Mrs Patmore watched as her friend had turned away an evening sweet or a fine pastry, her own face likely portraying the ridiculousness of turning down a dessert. Over the years, Mrs Patmore had realised that the simple things were the ones that she looked out for. Given her status on the planet, and lack of a beau to keep her occupied, she had no choice but to enjoy the things that she had control over. Making and creating beautiful food to please others and herself, as well as doing it for a job, was most definitely what she invested nearly all of her time on. She would frequently find herself offering to make people pies and cakes as an offering of friendship, hospitality and also kindness. There was nothing better than looking at the reaction of someone that enjoyed the food that was made by her own hands. Those biscuits were sweet and buttery delights, and as she lifted the tin with her hand she could tell straight away that it was empty. "Bloody hell," she whispered, disappointed in herself for consuming them all, and annoyed because she wanted to dunk one in her tea.

In the distance, she could hear the shuffling of footsteps as the early risers began their day. Mrs Hughes was usually down at this time, getting up way before she was required with Carson being away, so she hoped that she was going to appear in the kitchen to stamp on the ember of worry that nestled at the back of her mind. Breakfast almost prepared, as she had started once she had realised the time when she had woken up, and so she knew Daisy was going to appear soon too. Putting the lid on the empty biscuit tin, she got up and put it away so it was out of the way, side-eyeing it with annoyance one last time before grabbing the kettle, filling it and putting it on the oven.

"Morning, Mrs Patmore," Anna said politely as she wandered into the kitchen with Mr Bates in tow. "Oh my, you look a little worse for wear. Are you quite well?" The cook looked pale, tired, and her hair was sticking up in all sorts of angles, much more demented to how it normally was.

Mrs Patmore glared over her shoulder and grabbed some cups out for the new attendees and reached for the sugar. They had all worked together for so long, she knew exactly how each person liked their drink. It was second nature now. "Well, I was up most of the night waiting for Mrs Hughes to come back."

"How was she?" Anna queried, her face suddenly mirroring the concern she began to feel. From looking at Mrs Patmore's face, she could tell something was amiss. Although, it wasn't unusual for Mrs Patmore to have something to grumble about.

"Damned if I know," Mrs Patmore exclaimed before pouring the boiling hot water into the teapot.

"What do you mean?" Anna queried, moving over to the chair and placing her hands on the back.

Mrs Patmore lifted her head to look up at the ceiling before sighing. "She was going down to the hospital last night, you know, to tell 'im. I promised her I would wait up for 'er. I woke up this morning with my face on that table, realising that she either hadn't come home, or she hadn't realised I was in 'ere. So I don't know. I feel a bit worried though. I told her I'd wait up. So she didn't come back or she did and she was beside 'erself or somethin'."

Anna shook her head. "I think it'll be fine. I mean, we both know he adores her, even though he has never wanted to admit it. I don't think that in the presence of her direct feelings he would turn them away? Don't you agree?"

"What if that's the problem? We might 'ave built her up and told 'er it'll be fine, but he might not be able to get over the propriety wall that 'e stands behind so diligently. What he wants, and what he thinks he can 'ave are two different things." Mrs Patmore shook her head sadly. When you're in the kitchen on your own, it was easy to overthink anything. Normally she had Daisy to direct her attention to, to make sure that she was doing as she should be. It was quite a nuisance to be able to sit in her head. What if they had pushed her into it and it had gone wrong? Mrs Patmore wasn't sure Mrs Hughes could take the rejection after being so broken over the past few days.

"You mean, if she falls flat on her face because he's too stubborn to move past his role, it'll be partly our fault?" Anna turned to look at Bate with worried eyes. Bates put his hand gently on her lower back for reassurance and shook his head to confirm that it wouldn't be her fault.

"You could say that yes. We know it's true, that 'e adores her. It's more obvious than his Lordship's love of wine. I've just been thinkin' is all, it's not as if I've been doin' much else sat down 'ere. What if she has buggered off because he turned her down? and she's done a Lady Mary?" Mrs Patmore knew that she wasn't a clever woman, but when her mind latched onto something it became a bit of an issue. Now her thoughts had her worried.

"Do a Lady Mary? How crass. That was a little different," Anna chided angrily. "You never know, it might have gone well and she's just lost track of time. Or as you said, she got so caught up in everything and didn't realise that you were here. It wouldn't have been intentional."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to come out like that. I just don't think she can take the knock, you know? Now I think about it. When she left earlier she looked so worried. Mrs Hughes has always been so strong, she's 'eld me up more times than I can count. If I look at my life, she's probably the best friend I never thought I 'ad. Same for you. I just wonder if this is the real Achilles heel for her. We've seen her on her knees a few times this week, it's hard to leave it to pan itself out."

Anna nodded her head in agreeance and looked down at her hands momentarily as she thought about what Mrs Patmore was saying. "If she isn't here we can phone up the hospital and see if she's still there?"

Mr Bates looked at the two women and shook his head. "Has anyone even checked to see if she's in her room? Or see if she's come down?"

Thomas walked in and stared at them all stood around talking. "Who has come down where?" he said with a puzzled look. "And don't you all have something to be doing?"

Anna's eyes narrowed slightly at the pompous way that Thomas was talking. "Mrs Hughes. And I didn't think it was any of your business. We are in early, and Mrs Patmore is well ahead as you can see."

Thomas grinned, feeling quite content about the fact that he was going to get to tell them that he was in fact in charge. It always filled him with warmth when he was able to correct people or stand above them in the hierarchy of the house. Not that it happened very often. "Mrs Hughes won't be down any time soon. I'm running things for the moment."

"Ey?" Mrs Patmore said, turning back from pouring the tea and staring at Thomas with a shocked expression. "What do you mean she won't be down? And you running things for 'ow long?"

Thomas felt like it would be cruel to not give them the full picture, knowing that Mrs Hughes was going to be back down in just a few hours. It would be nice to let them think that he was going to be in charge a little longer than he was. It was the simple things that got him through his days after all. "I've been told she is taking some time off. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to start getting things ready. Is everything going ok for breakfast?"

Mrs Patmore and Anna exchanged a worried look between them, both of them coming to the same conclusion that Mrs Hughes would not take time off unless something wasn't right. "Have I ever not had breakfast ready on time, Mr Barrow?" Mrs Patmore said through pursed lips.

"Good good. I'll be back down in a short while." Thomas smiled, made eye contact with Bates and then turned on his heel and headed for the stairs. If he ever got to run a house, he wondered if this feeling would follow him.

"Oh my God. What's 'appened? Why is she takin' time off? This is all our fault" Mrs Patmore grabbed the cups and saucers, passing them to Bates and Anna who were looking at each other with worried eyes.

"It might be nothing," Anna said in a strained voice. "I mean, she might just be exhausted and not feeling too well."

"Or 'e's broken 'er heart!" Mrs Patmore went to walk towards the biscuit tin, feeling the pang of desire for something sweet to quench her worry. Then she realised that it was empty, she stopped in her tracks and rested both of her hands on the table. "What do we do?"

"After breakfast, when it quietens down a bit, we can go up and see if she's in her room. See if she's ok. It might be nothing!"

"Or it might be bloody somethin'. Oh, I can't wait for things to settle down. This isn't going to do my nerves or my waistline any good." Mrs Patmore grabbed a cloth off the side and began to wipe at things half-heartedly, her mind going through all the different things that could be amiss. It had dawned on her more and more as the moments went by that Mrs Hughes was very dear to her as a friend. Although their conversations sometimes were fleeting, caught up in the hustle and bustle of the day, the time they did spend talking and helping each other had made her feel like she had a companion. Not in a way that would be improper, but as friends. They were both on the same page, both of them single and working into old age at a ferocious pace. Mrs Patmore hoped that her friend was ok. It would break her heart to see that she wasn't. She had seen her be affected by the things going on in the recent days, but if Carson had denied her then it would be the icing on the cake. It would also mean she would look at Mr Carson in a slightly different view. He was a good man, a proper man, but potentially he would be misguided and clouded by his devotion to the family. They were a good family, of course they were, she had her sight and her job as proof, but they were just an employer. The love of a woman like Mrs Hughes was not something that should be overlooked because of the loyalty of someone that paid you a wage. Whatever it was, she would do her best to make sure that Mrs Hughes would be ok. Maybe she could make her something nice?

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Robert blinked ferociously as he tried to focus on the roof of his bed, the light from the newly-risen sun beginning to fill the room. Although he felt like he could sleep for a week at the moment, he still couldn't help but wake with the rising sun. A few months ago he had suggested that they get thicker curtains in the room so that it would remain dark that little while longer. Robert loved sleep very much. If he was lucky he could doze before nodding back off properly to give him another hour or so to get a little more sleep. It was different if they were both awake, as then he would have someone to talk to, and they would snuggle up until their life would mean they would have to leave the haven of their bed.

As he lay there, staring up at the yellow-gold canopy, he could feel something pressed against his side. As he stretched out his fingers he could make out the hand of his wife. Carefully and delicately, he placed his hand under Cora's and laced his fingers between hers. The skin on her hands was soft, never having to do anything in her life to upset the delicate nature of her skin, and they were warm. As he gave her hand a little squeeze, he felt her thumb twitch against his and he turned his head to look at her.

Cora was curled up in a ball on her side, he could tell by the outline of her body under the covers, and her other hand was propped just millimetres from his head. When she was sleeping she would often rest one of her hands under head, but clearly, this one had escaped. Gently shifting his body so that he was resting on his side, he moved his head a little closer so his cheek was resting against her upturned fingers. Having her close made him smile, and he shifted his body a few centimetres so that he was as close as he could be without disturbing her. It wasn't the first time he had watched her sleep. Something was comforting about doing it, seeing her peaceful and carefree as she slept. Robert wasn't stupid, and he knew that the whole ordeal of losing Sybil, Matthew and then watching her daughter vanish into the night had had some impact on her. That's why he had been allowing her to steer him to bed each night and allowed her to give him that bit of extra care because he knew that she was worried about him too. He was tired, of course he was tired, he wasn't as young as he used to be, but he was fine in himself. When they were sat downstairs he would catch her staring at him with a wide-eyed worry, and it wouldn't be long until she stated that they were off to bed. Robert didn't mind going to bed earlier than he usually did, because he enjoyed being in her presence. When they were alone it allowed a lot of the worry of the world outside to evaporate, even if it was momentarily.

Robert sighed quietly and reached up with his hand to move a stray hair behind her ear. When he thought about the night gone by, he remembered that he had woken up to find her crying with her face in her hands. The feeling of seeing that as soon as he was awake was gut-wrenching and shocking. Cora was strong. She was so much stronger than a lot of people, including his Mama, realised. She was forever making sure that everything and everyone was fine. As new things came her way, she would always try to understand them and would do what she thought was best for her children and her family. Of course, some of the ways that she did things wasn't exactly uniform to the way an English person would, but it didn't matter. Robert loved her for everything that she was, and everything she had enriched his life with. It still troubled him though, to have seen her so upset. It left a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach, reminding him of the tension that enveloped them after the loss of Sybil. There had been many times during that age when he had found her crying. On the outside, in front of other people, she had seemed cold and angry. Behind closed doors, he had seen the cracks, and it had taken a while for her to let him back in there so he could try and patch them up. Cora wasn't naturally fragile, but he wondered if the whole mess that they had found themselves in had meant that the cracks had begun to reappear. Whatever it was, he would keep an eye on her, give her a little more reassurance when he thought she needed it.

Robert gently placed his hand on her cheek, smiling as he did and moving his body even closer so he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. "I love you," he whispered, before moving his head so he could kiss her hand.

The fingers on her hand twitched, and he looked down to see her eyes begin to blink sleepily open. "Did I wake you?" he said quietly, moving his arm so he could wrap it around her so his hand was on her back.

Cora straightened out her legs and moved closer as he pulled her body towards him. "No," she cooed sleepily, nestling her head in under his chin as she took in a deep breath. "I've been on and off for a while."

"You looked sound asleep to me," Robert smiled playfully as he kissed her on the forehead.

"I feel exhausted. I don't think I've had more than 4 hours in total." Cora yawned and ran her hands up his back. "Can we just stay in bed all day?"

"Don't tempt me," Robert said dryly, enjoying the feeling of her hands moving up and down his back. "Let's just stay in bed a bit later today. I have to go down to the hospital later this afternoon."

Cora lifted her head with a puzzled expression. "What for? To see Mary?"

Robert felt her squeeze his body tightly, her cool nose burrowing into his neck as she settled herself against him. These were the moments that he loved. The days where they would sleep separately were always frightfully cold and empty. The solace from just sheets around him was in no way a comparison to the warmth and presence of the person that he loved with all his heart. "Well, actually, it's Carson I wanted to see. I haven't seen him yet, and I want to thank him." Robert had been so caught up in everything that he hadn't been down to see the butler yet. Not only did he want to shake his hand, but he also wanted to give him a proper thank you in person. Part of him wanted to wait until he was back in the house, but given the unpredictability of life and the increased realisation that things could change at any minute, it made sense to do it sooner rather than later. Getting caught up in the simple daily tasks was not enough of an excuse to not shake the hand of the man that saved his daughter. He was sure that things transpired on that night that he was not aware of. The chances were that his daughter would have been stubborn, and Carson would have had to work the magic that he had developed over time with her. Robert knew that Carson held a position of favour with his daughter, and it had never bothered him. There would be some people that would develop a streak of jealousy over the fact that their daughter would frequently turn to another man. Robert was not like that, he understood the subtle differences between the love of a Father and the love of someone else. He was just glad that after everything, other people cared for her as he did. There was no malice, no ill-intent, just loyalty to her that did not falter. A war was better fought with an army, and sometimes the general had to acknowledge that the power wasn't always in his hands and that it was a joint effort.

"That's nice. I think it won't be long until they're both back though. I believe Carson is on top form. I'll come down with you and see Mary." Cora moved her head back from his neck and kissed his jaw gently.

"I'm looking forward to it returning to normal. I've noticed that everyone seems so strained downstairs. They're walking around looking so stretched and focused. It's strange. It doesn't feel right. I always thought that we were good employers, but they don't seem very happy at the moment. Mrs Hughes is beginning to look a little done in. I think perhaps we should give her a few hours off to give herself a bit of rest. I'm sure Barrow can hold the fort, it's not as if there's much going on at the moment." Robert let out a puff of air and adjusted his feet so that they were intertwined with hers, feeling the coolness of her toes. It always made him wonder why her feet were always colder than his, and if he was feeling a little stuffy he would use them to cool him down. Either that or he would stick one foot out from under the covers.

"Don't let your Mama hear you say that. I don't think she would agree that it's about being a good employer, and more that they have to do their job above all things. Anyway, I have sorted it, darling," Cora sniffed, nuzzling back into Robert's neck a little closer.

"I daresay it would be frightfully stressful working for Mama. I know they have a job to do, and that's what they're here for and what we pay them for, but I always feel that if they're happier, they do a better job. You can tell when they're happy. I hope that makes sense and means I don't come across as being soft." Robert reached for the cover and pulled it further up towards his chin, tucking Cora in around the edges to make sure that she was nice and warm.

Cora squeezed him. "You are soft. I love that about you."

"I hope you don't mean literally. It's hard enough to keep the weight away as it is. I wouldn't want you going off me for being a human cushion." The tone in his voice was playful.

Cora poked him playfully. "I love that you're my human cushion. It makes it even better for me to lie on you. Nobody wants to feel bone under their cheek."

"I don't know whether to feel offended or happy," he said with an element of mocked annoyance. "I'll take the latter and run with it. I keep thinking I should go out walking more with Isis to stop her getting soft too. Anyway. What did you mean you'd sorted it with Mrs Hughes?"

Cora yawned, feeling her eyes begin to feel tired again. "I told you I didn't sleep too well last night. I got up and bumped into Mrs Hughes and told her to take a few hours off in the morning. Thomas is taking care of things for a few hours."

"Do you think we've pushed her too hard?" Robert mumbled unhappily, trying to think about the things he had gotten her to do over the previous days. It hadn't seemed all that much to him, but maybe he had been blind to it.

"No, I think it's been easier at the moment. Fewer people in the house, we've all been distracted and less picky. It seems more than that, although I can't put my finger on it. I just feel like we owed her some time." Cora inhaled contently and adjusted her head so that it lay flat against his upper chest, moving her hand so that it was on his arm. As she grabbed it, she lightly rubbed it up and down to soothe his worry.

"Yes, well, it'll all be fine," Robert paused to go over their conversation. "Are you ok? It's not like you to be this restless?"

Cora sighed. "I'm ok. The dream just rattled me," she lied. "It all felt so real, and then I couldn't get it out of my head. I think I just need a little bit more sleep to catch up."

Robert kissed the top of her head again. "Good. I do worry about you sometimes."

"Oh, shhh, you. I don't want you to worry. I'm the one that should be worrying. I have been trying to keep an eye on you I have to admit."

"Yes, I know you have," Robert smiled. "We are a pair, aren't we? As long as we are both ok though?"

"Exactly." Cora yawned again and moved her hand up to his neck, where she leant her hand against it gently. "Oh, a few more hours would be perfect."

"Then a few more hours we shall have, my darling," Robert cooed, shifting his body down and taking her with him. They were both intertwined together, feeling the warmth of each other as they both happily closed their eyes. Robert waited a little while, his head resting against hers as she moved up and down with his breathing. After a short while, he could hear and feel the elongated puffs of air on his chest, signalling that she had fallen back to sleep. After a short while, her breathing continuing in its rhythmic fashion, he closed his eyes with a smile on his face. There was nothing better than having her so close. Absolutely nothing.


	28. Chapter 28

**3 Hope you're all keeping well. Thanks again for all your support with this!**

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Mrs Patmore climbed the stairs behind Anna, her mind contemplating the various scenarios that they were going to be faced with when they finally reached their destination. In her hand, she had a small white plate that had two pieces of buttered toast that would likely be lukewarm by the time they were potentially eaten. It didn't matter though, old toast was quite nice, especially if the butter had soaked its way through to the other side. In her other hand was a cup of tea, which was still steaming quite well. In the rush and nervousness of getting upstairs to see what had happened, she hadn't thought about grabbing a tray, and so she was trying to hold them as cautiously as she could, trying to keep her back straight as she ascended the last set of stairs.

"She's got to be in her room," Anna said quietly, her pace being far quicker than that of Mrs Patmore who lagged sluggishly behind. "How else would Thomas know?"

Mrs Patmore took in a deep breath, feeling herself getting more and more out of breath the further up into the house they went. Normally she liked to move up and down the stairs when she needed to, at her own plodding pace. The urgency in Anna's steps made her push herself harder than she normally would, and so she found it harder to get her breath. It never used to be as hard and was likely due to her age or laziness. "I bloody hope so. I don't want to be up and down these stairs all day."

"You know you would if you had to," Anna replied, turning to look at her directly. "It's not just for anyone, is it? She might need us."

Mrs Patmore lowered her head. "I know. I just want everything to be normal. I don't like it when things change."

Anna chuckled. "Oh, we all know that."

They both came out onto the corridor and moved towards Mrs Hughes' room, Mrs Patmore always keeping a step behind Anna as she concentrated on the things that she had in her hand. When they got to the door, they both stopped and stared at each other, their eyes both showing an ember of worry. "We should knock," Anna whispered.

"Well, we aren't going to just bloody barge in, are we? Regardless of what we do for a living, we aren't uncouth!" The sudden burst of volume made her hands wobble, and she had to steady herself to stop the tea from bursting over the edges of the cup.

"I know." Anna lifted her hand and hesitated for just a second before rapping on the door. It wasn't hard, and it wasn't soft. It was enough so that if Mrs Hughes was inside she could hear them, but not assume urgency or anger like she would if she rapped hard and fast. The subtleties made all the difference sometimes. It was something she had learnt over the years doing the job that she did, there was always a way to do things in a certain situation.

Silence filled the corridor temporarily, both of them holding their breath as they strained their ears, just in case they were to miss an acknowledgement or any sort of reply. It was likely only a few seconds, but they both felt like it was ten minutes. Mrs Patmore nervously tapped her foot whilst trying to ensure she was able to remain balanced enough so as not to drop her goods.

"Come in," they heard a sleepy voice reply.

Anna opened the door and walked in. Mrs Hughes was propped up on her elbow, her eyes puffy and full of sleep as she stared back at them looking completely lost and bewildered. The plait that was in her hair rested over her chest and she blinked ferociously as she tried to push the sleep away."Oh, Anna, Mrs Patmore," she croaked. Although her room was chilly, a draft entered the room and she pulled her covers up a little higher.

"Oh, Mrs Hughes. I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you would be asleep." Anna gave a nervous glance to Mrs Patmore, who had her mouth open as she stared over at Mrs Hughes with a confused expression.

One of the things Mrs Patmore sometimes wished she was able to do was hide how she was feeling. Ever since she was a child she had been hindered with the most obvious and open facial expressions that would always make it difficult for her to feign ignorance or shock. Not only that, but she had also found it difficult to bite her tongue and refrain from speaking the exact words that appeared in her mind. "No, we thought somethin' had bloody 'appened to you when you didn't appear last night or this morning. You 'ad us bloody worried!" Mrs Patmore walked forward and placed the tea and toast on the bedside table. "I waited up most of the night for you. I woke up this mornin' with my face planted on the table where I'd nodded off."

Mrs Hughes' face dropped when she realised that she had completely forgotten that Mrs Patmore was going to wait up for her. When they had got back, it had been insisted on that she come in via the front door rather than traipsing around the back. Mrs Hughes had said that it was fine, as the car was going to go that way anyway. In all the toing and froing she had forgotten and felt very guilty at the fact. "Oh, Mrs Patmore, I'm so so sorry," she said apologetically whilst tracking Mrs Patmore's annoyed eyes. "I didn't get back until late and went through the front door."

"The front? Well, that's takin' a liberty isn't it?" Mrs Patmore's eyes were wide as she threw her hands into the air. Never in her life would she think about going through the front door to gain access to the house. Their place was around the back, and that had always been the proper way.

"Oh, don't be silly!" Mrs Hughes exclaimed, lifting herself so she was completely vertical. "I said I'm sorry. Please don't stay cross with me," she pleaded. "My mind was elsewhere and her Ladyship told me to go through the front with her."

"Her Ladyship?" Anna queried, her face mirroring the shock of Mrs Patmore's.

Mrs Hughes sighed. "Yes. She went down to see Lady Mary in the early hours. I don't know why, as even I found it peculiar for her to be up so late. But anyway, I bumped into her when I was leaving the hospital. Kindly, as I know she didn't have to, she offered to let me ride back with her. When we pulled up, I was going to come around the back, and if I had I would not have left you asleep on that table I assure you of that. I apologise, sincerely." Mrs Hughes rubbed her eyes tiredly and hung her head.

Mrs Patmore sighed and moved one of the chairs to the edge of the bed so she could sit down. "Did it not go well then? Is that why you didn't come down this mornin'?" The tone of her voice had mellowed quite dramatically. "We were ever so worried. Thomas has been flouting his power as you'd expect. We didn't think it were right."

Anna sat herself on the end of the bed, making sure she didn't sit on Mrs Hughes' feet. "We were worried that it didn't go to plan and that's why you needed to be on your own. Are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Mrs Hughes said softly, trying not to give too much away. "I'm just exhausted, truthfully just exhausted. Her Ladyship told me to take the morning off so I thought I'd try and get some rest." There wasn't any annoyance in her voice, even though she had been woken. She knew more than not that they had only come up because they were worried. That level of friendship was something that you couldn't buy.

"I'm sorry we woke you. We 'ad the best intentions and wanted to make sure you were ok." Mrs Patmore picked up the plate and passed it over to Mrs Hughes. "You must be famished, so we bought you up a bit o' breakfast."

Mrs Hughes politely took the plate and placed it onto her lap. Looking at the pair of them she could see their expectant eyes boring into her. They wanted to know what had happened. It was nice that they were concerned about her, especially considering she was usually the one that looked after both of them when they needed it. How could she put it into words? How could she get the information over to them without turning into a puddle of girlish smirks and giggles? And if not that, she might even cry from happiness rather than the contrasting reason she had been crying over previous days. There was some semblance of warmth coming from the plate that housed the toast, so she picked off a corner and put it into her mouth. "Oh, this toast is lovely."

Mrs Patmore glared at Mrs Hughes, her face showing the confusion and the need to know what happened. "Yes, and you 'ave it every morning. It's no different to the usual kind. Come now, Mrs Hughes, we want to know what happened and make sure you're ok!"

Mrs Hughes knew that they weren't going to go away until she told them, or until they had to get on with their work for the day. "Well," she began to say, feeling the excitement begin to build in her chest, pushing tears into her eyes as she tried to think of the words that she would use to put it out there concisely.

Anna saw the tears spring into Mrs Hughes' eyes and she reached forward and grabbed her hand. "He didn't, did he?"

Mrs Hughes smiled and wiped the stray tear that had fallen down her face away. There was no way that she was going to be able to put this out there calmly and clearly. The noise of her heart beating in her ears, the warmth in her cheeks as she began to blush, and the shaking of her hand as she raised another piece of toast to her mouth was enough of a giveaway she thought. Reaching behind her, and reluctantly so, she pressed her hand against the book she had nestled under her pillow. The surface was cool, even though she had been lying on it for a few hours, and she ran her fingers over the indentations in its surface. Taking it in a strong grip, she pulled it out and placed it next to the plate on her lap. Lifting another piece of toast into her mouth, she moved the plate back to the bedside table and opened the book. The rumbling in her stomach erupted in acknowledgement of her breakfast, and she looked sheepishly at Mrs Patmore.

"I'll need to get you some more toast, I reckon," Mrs Patmore laughed before moving her eyes to the book. "Well, would you look at that."

"That's lovely," Anna said, looking at the book with a confused eye.

Mrs Hughes nervously chewed on the piece of toast in her mouth, trying to distract herself from nausea creeping into her chest. The realisation that she was going to share this with them and the fact that she was going to tell them what had happened made everything seem a bit more real. Openly talking about it, putting it out there for others to digest gave her the realisation that it had happened and made it even more poignant. They knew Carson, they knew what he was about, and knew he had never been so open with his expression in all the years they had all known him. The fact that they knew him that well would just make it even harder to put into words. Putting it out there from the page was the easiest thing she could do. It also meant that the most vulnerable part of her, the true and pure feelings that she had written down would be in the open air. They wouldn't judge her though, she knew that, and after the week they had all been through it would likely be refreshing for them to see something positive.

Turning the front cover over, Mrs Hughes moved her fingers to the page she had saved with the thin bookmark attached to the spine, carefully making sure that she didn't leave any grease marks from the butter on the toast. "Here," she said, offering it to Anna.

Mrs Patmore's face was completely scrunched up in confusion, her mouth hanging open as she watched the book exchange hands. "I feel like I've missed somethin'" she grumbled, wondering what was going on as Mrs Hughes' behaviour was slightly peculiar.

Anna looked up in an exasperated manner. "Let her do it at her own pace," she said firmly, turning the book so that the writing was facing her.

Mrs Hughes felt her breath hitch in her throat, swallowing hard as she felt the tears sting at her eyes. The nervousness burnt within her, engulfing any words that she was going to say so she just smiled.

Anna stared at Mrs Hughes. It was so obvious as she sat there, looking into her eyes and seeing a spark of life that had been dimmed for so long. Like a fire, engulfing an arid land, it had taken her and it shone out in the darkness. It had gone well, Anna could tell, and the tears in her eyes were not of sorrow, but of happiness. It was unbridled, pure, and bit at her words so that the excitement and love made it impossible to speak it. Anna knew what that was like, and so she knew that Mrs Hughes could only explain with whatever it was in these pages. "Shall I read it out?"

Mrs Patmore felt her pockets. "I 'aven't got my glasses. So it would probably be better."

Anna smiled and lifted the book so she could read the words on the page. The letters weren't very dark, the lead of the pencil making it difficult to read in comparison to the darkness of ink. Clearing her throat, she began. "Charlie Carson told me he loved me-"

" Bloody 'ell. 'E never?!" Mrs Patmore exclaimed, turning to Mrs Hughes with a wide-eyed expression. "Straight off the bat? See, we told you, Mrs Hughes. Didn't we?"

Anna laughed in an exasperated manner. "Let me read it in one go. It'll take all day if you hop in after every sentence."

Mrs Patmore smirked. "Sorry. I just got a bit excited." Taking her hands she clasped them together and turned to stare at Anna with wide eyes. When she was a child she used to do the same when she was being read a story. The feeling in her chest was like when she was at the peak of a story, her heart beginning to race as she wondered what was going to come next.

Anna read the rest of the words out one by one. Every syllable was done delicately and with excitement. The further in she got, the higher the pitch in her voice as she gathered momentum and felt her stomach twist with happiness as she fully understood the words that she was speaking. At one point she looked up and could see the tears free-falling down Mrs Hughes' face as she recollected the moments in her mind. Mrs Patmore looked shell shocked, her mouth so wide open she was sure her fist would fit in it. It was so pure and lovely and left her whole body feeling happy for her friend. Like a tail out of a romance novel she felt she had been propelled into something that she knew and understood. The feelings that Anna knew Mrs Hughes was experiencing were like the ones she felt for her husband, and seeing them written down made her momentarily reminisce about the times she had shared with him. The love for Bates grew stronger and stronger as the days went by. What the love story between Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson had was years of build-up and familiarity that Anna and Bates were only beginning. As coworkers, they had worked together and learnt about each other, but now, their love being unleashed it had all come together in one swift moment. A beautiful moment.

"That were beautiful," Mrs Patmore sniffed, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief she had pulled out of her pocket.

Anna closed the book delicately and handed it back over. "I'm so happy for you, Mrs Hughes. It's the start of your adventure, and I couldn't ask for it to happen to a more deserving pair."

Mrs Hughes could feel herself getting more and more emotional. It was driven by happiness and finally having it out in the open for her friends to understand. Now that it was out there, it felt even more real, like it had been validated and understood by someone other than Carson and herself. "Thank you," she strained, wiping at her cheeks as she felt tears continue to fall down her cheeks. "I'm so happy," she cried, the tears getting faster and harder as she felt herself sob. The years of pent up emotions, the days of anguish and torment and finally having it all come together needed to come out. Having been so caught up in accepting that it had happened, she hadn't allowed it to penetrate her mind and soul properly. She had been so caught up in the idea of it, and realising it, that it hadn't sunk in as deep as it had at that moment. As she sat there, her friends smiling at how happy she was, she just allowed herself to release it. The tiredness, the days gone by, the pure exhaustion and bewilderment now mixed in with the torrent of emotion that had allowed itself to lie there. "I'm just so happy."

Anna reached out and took her hand. "We are so happy for you, Mrs Hughes. We knew he loved you. I'm just glad that he's finally realised it for himself. You deserve this, and no matter what, you both have each other now. There is nothing finer than knowing that you have someone out there that would do anything for you, that would have your corner in the worst of storms and always be there to envelop you after a bad day. That man is yours, and you are his, and you can spend the rest of your years together now." Anna wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Oh, look at me, getting all emotional on your behalf," she laughed.

Mrs Patmore smiled. "I'm so glad for you, Mrs Hughes. I'm so glad that he managed to see over his place in this house to see you for what you are to him. What will you do about telling the family?"

Mrs Hughes shook her head. "Oh, I don't know. We never spoke about that. I'm just happy at the moment in knowing where I stand and what we mean to each other. Whatever happens, we have each other, so everything around that we can sort."

"I'm sure they'll be fine with it. I mean, you've both worked your socks off for 'em." Mrs Patmore nodded her head firmly.

Anna nodded in agreeance and adjusted herself on the bed. "I think it'll be fine. I mean, look at me and Bates."

Mrs Hughes ran her hands over the top of the book happily before returning it under her pillow behind her. That was there next obstacle she knew, but there wasn't any rush. They needed to get themselves right and talk through everything. "I remain hopeful. We shall see though."

Anna got to her feet and stood at the side of Mrs Patmore, clasping her hands together as she stared gleefully at her friend. "Oh, how wonderful. After all this doom and gloom we've got something happy in the ranks," she squeaked.

Mrs Patmore nodded in a happy agreeance before getting to her feet. The puffiness in Mrs Hughes' eyes hadn't left, and she could tell that she needed some more sleep. Inside she felt a little twang of jealousy. It wasn't malicious, and it wasn't negative in any way towards Mrs Hughes, because she was genuinely happy for her. A part of her thought that Mrs Hughes would be like her until they retired. Both of them single, working into their old age until they couldn't any longer. Mrs Patmore longed desperately to be in that situation that Mrs Hughes was now in, and it had never mattered how hard she had tried she just never managed to get to that point. There had never been a man that she had known that had wanted her for who she was. It made her feel sad somewhat, but she pushed it away as quick as it came. "We should leave you to get back to sleep."

Mrs Hughes flung the covers from her body and moved her legs to the side so they were hanging over the edge. "You think I'm going to be able to get back to sleep now? No, I'll get ready and come down. I might get another slice of toast though."

Mrs Patmore chuckled. "I'll make you as many as you like!"

Both of the women left the room to leave Mrs Hughes to get ready, their faces both full of happiness and smiles. They had both started their morning feeling unnerved by the absence of their friend. Now, they both felt the contentment and happiness from finding out what had happened. It was beautiful, it was warm and it was pure. They were both happy that Mrs Hughes finally had a reason to be happy that was above and outside of work. Carson was someone she could call her own. If you could ask them if they would have thought the year would have panned out like that, they probably both would have laughed. It was funny how the world could change on the edge of a knife.


	29. Chapter 29

**This one turned out a little longer than I anticipated. Apologies for taking a bit longer to get it out :) Thank you again for all of your support. **

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The hospital bathed in the brightest of sunshine. The rays touched almost every part of it as the sun shone high up in the sky. The cracks in the brickwork were similar to the lines on a persons face. They told the tale of the building's existence and the stresses it had had to endure. It had to adhere to the pressures of the weather, shifting of the brickwork, and invasion of ivy and other creeping plants. If you looked at the building with care, you could almost make out the face of a man. The roof was like an old hat. The placement of the end windows were like eyes looking upon the world. The line of sills at the bottom spread out like the grin of a mouth. Then, if you tied in the ivy and cracks as wrinkles, there stood an old English gentleman of Downton Village. Surprisingly, and even she thought it was strange, it reminded her of Carson. The hospital was a protector of the village. It helped people get back on their feet and back to good health. Carson was that to her, was that to so many.

The air around her was warm enough so that she could feel it beneath her clothes. It was if it was warming her right through to her core, and so she closed her eyes to let it sink into her face. It was what she needed. The night before had been long. After her Mama had visited her in the early hours, she had struggled to sleep afterwards. It had been patchy and full of unwanted dreams and nightmares. Sybil and Matthew were at the forefront of the difficult ones, reminding her of the sadness she was feeling. When she had awoken at one point, she had felt the neck of her nightdress and found it soaked with sweat. After that, Mary had tried to go back to sleep with nothing but a sheet covering her. It had left her feeling off when she had woken up for the morning, and she could feel the panic and sadness sitting in the pit of her stomach.

Once she had eaten her toast, had a cup of tea and retrieved the message from her Mama, she had climbed out of bed. It only took a moment to put something on her feet, and then she made her way downstairs towards the garden. The dream had made her feel some pressure from her grief, and so she needed to try and clear her mind so that the feeling would go away. Mary knew that she was going to overcome this grief. What she needed to do was do it in such a way that it would not mar the memory of Matthew in her mind. It seemed like the hardest challenge that she would ever have to face, and it was daunting without him by her side. What she had to remember, because people had made their love very clear, was that she had people around her that had been through something similar and would do whatever they could to help her get through it. When she had made her way downstairs, her first point of call had been to see if Carson was awake as he had always made her feel secure. When she could see that he was sleeping peacefully, she had gone to the garden without him.

The life she was living now was a distant contrast to the life she had previously lived. Before the grief. Before the pain. The years before had been filled with arrogance to loss, desires for greatness and a hardness to her soul that only Matthew could soften. The hours she would spend deliberating dresses, seeking out men who could elevate her and her life, and how she needed to have her hair in a particular way that day. Now all she cared for was trying to feel peace inside her aching chest. Parties swapped for a quaint hospital garden, smiles and laughter replaced with tears and grief. How she was now was not how her life should be. She was trying not to resent it and accept it for what it was now. The pain needed to set free from the stone wall in her heart, but breaking that down was a difficult task she had to face. Piece by piece, moment by moment, it would come down. It had to come down. There was no other way.

The breeze whipped around her hair as she looked up at the cotton clouds that were tracking across the sky. It reminded her of when she was a child, and how they would try and imagine the things that the clouds resembled. Sybil always had the best imagination and could see the most intricate details within the shadows and highlights of the cloud formations. Sybil could see the best in things, and any cloud that she saw was always something positive, always something warm. Edith would see monsters and spiders, whereas Sybil saw bunnies and happy faces. Those days were much simpler. Mary should have treasured them more. As a child, you have no concept of those times and what they mean. So really, there was nothing in that time as a child to treasure, because children lived in the moment. What she should do now is value the happy moments in her life to help her through the bad.

Mary let out an elongated sigh. The air outside was fresh, a light breeze coursed through the air and wafted the scent of freshly cut grass towards her. It made her take in a deep breath, reminding her of the days that she and her sisters would play with the grass after it had been cut. They would play with it, throw it, roll around in it and let it fall through their fingers until it would get removed and the lawns cleared up. It was always fun to throw grass in Edith's face.

The long gown she was wearing flapped delicately against her ankles as the wind moved through any gap it could find, like water, it managed to find a way through the smallest of spaces. The air was warm, fresh, laced with the smell of flowers and grass, and it fingered through her hair like the fingers of mother nature herself. It made her sigh. The sigh was not a happy sigh, but it was also not a sigh of desperation that she was used to. It was just a sigh like it was the only way that she could express that moment of temporary stillness as she let her mind settle. It was this stillness that she craved. Mary needed to learn to treasure the past and not dwell on it. In essence, she had to live for the now because that was all she had. At the same time, she had to look to the future as a cure for her sadness. How she would get through this and what she would strive towards. Matthew. George. Mama. Papa. Carson. Anna. Tom.

"What a beautiful day, My Lady," she heard the deep voice of Carson say. Turning quickly, she jerked her head as fast as she could to see Carson standing to the side of her, a smile on his face. "Are you well, My Lady?"

Mary tracked her eyes over his face, starting with the top where she could see the minor yellowing over the slightly sickly pallor that his face still held. It was because Mary knew where to look that she could make out the faded bruising. Then she moved to his brows that sat like a shelf over his sparkling eyes. There was a warmth and glow behind his eyes that Mary had never noticed before as if something had come alive in him, something good. The hair on his head was not lying flat, she noted, a small lick of hair was sticking up by his ear as if it dared to reach towards the sun like a sunflower. Looking at the way he stood, he was carrying himself high, and she could see that he was feeling much better. It was radiating out of him like he had swallowed the sun whole. "Yes," Mary replied, taking a step back so that they were shoulder to shoulder. "It's a lovely day."

"Nature is a wonderful thing, My Lady. It really is. It grounds us. It makes us realise our place in the world and just how much life we have to live." Carson allowed himself a moment to inhale the smell of freshly cut grass that he caught when the wind rushed by his face. "It's a wonderful day."

Mary turned curiously to look at Carson who was beaming from ear to ear. "You look like the cat that's got the cream," Mary grinned. "You must be feeling much much better."

Carson raised his eyebrows instinctively. It was his natural response to almost any situation. They were expressive and dominant, and nearly always showed what he was feeling even if he was trying to hide it. Not that he ever really did. Seeing Mary smirk at him made him feel warmer than the rays of the sun that were bouncing off of his face could. Something was bothering her, he could tell by her face. It was likely why she was outside. Carson was no stranger to grief and the way that it moved differently within people. What usually occurred was that they lifted and fell like the tide. The frequency of good days changed and altered, but when the mist began to rise, the good days came more frequently and then lasted longer. It was what he was hoping would happen sooner rather than later. In his eyes, she had come so far after having battled for so long to keep herself afloat. The falter had perhaps been a blessing in disguise because she seemed to be getting better as the days went. The moment she had broken meant that the pieces could be glued back together. Seeing her doing better in herself as the days went, and the fact that his own life had turned on its head made him swell out with happiness. "I am feeling much better, My Lady. I really am."

Mary stared at his smile, seeing the corners of his mouth reach up towards the sky. It was the happiest she had seen him for a very long time. "Well," she said softly. "I am glad to hear it. Maybe we can go home soon?"

Carson nodded and smiled. "I believe Dr Clarkson is coming to talk to me about that later on today." Staring out across the garden, he looked to see a small bed of flowers near to him. Carson did love flowers and gardens and hoped to be able to work on one when he retired. They were colourful and well kept, and he could see that the colours moved from whites to yellows, and then to oranges, pinks and purples. The purples were the same hue as the Scottish thistle. This image of the thistle in his mind made him think of Mrs Hughes, and all he could do was smile. The smile stretched far up his face until the point he felt his cheeks ache, and then he sighed deeply. Happiness felt like it was oozing out of every single pore in his body. In his mind, he still had to tell himself that what had transpired with Mrs Hughes had not been a dream, that it was real and it had happened. "Yes, it is a beautiful day," he sighed again happily before staring out into the furthest corner of the garden.

Mary watched as Carson stood tall by her side, seeing him stare off into the distance with blissful contentment. There was certainly something that had shifted within him. Carson usually held a firm gaze. It was in his make-up to be direct, and he rarely moved away from that stone-like persona. Now he seemed to be living in a dreamy and content state. It was odd, but it was pleasant. The hard edges of his face looked to have been softened by the movement of a coursing tide. Was it because he was outside and finally free from his hospital bed? Was it because he was on the mend? But who was she kidding really? She knew that it was something to do with Mrs Hughes. Mrs Hughes was that tide, the rush of water that turned a rock into a precious stone. Of course it was. The evidence had pointed towards it like a flame in the night. Carson's expression was the look of a man in love. Mary remembered the same expression on Matthew's face. Her darling and loving Matthew. This reminder of how he used to look at her made her recoil and stare down at her feet. The sadness in her stomach balled up. It felt like she was being weighed down by a lead balloon. The panic began its ascent.

"And how are you doing, really, My Lady?" Carson could see her eyes downturn suddenly, and he sensed a shift. The smile had dropped, and her eyes glazed over. It was a split-second change, but he had noticed it none the less.

Mary preferred it when she was focusing on him. It helped her direct her attention away from herself. Watching how Carson reacted to things, how he was doing and acting. It was a distraction, something that she wanted for herself but also him. Not knowing how Carson had lived his life before the Abbey in much detail made it apparent that she did not know if he had ever been in love before. What she wanted was for him to have that in his life. To have him feel something deep and meaningful, pure and raw. It was his right to have someone to share his life with and be by his side. It was his right to have someone to plan his future with and settle down to each evening.

Mary had lost the man she was going to share her life with. That thought nestled deep in her mind, and it started to move around and around like a painful distraction.

Everything had been about her, and it had been like that since she was born. Living in a moment where it was about her meant, in that second, that she would have to think about how she was feeling. It was easier to focus on Carson. Much easier. "I think I'm nearly ready to go home. I've been waiting for the moment when we can both go back. We can both get back to our lives. I know it's not going to be easy, Carson, I am not naive to the fact. I just know that I have people there behind me, people who will help me and be there for me. I need to remember that over everything else. Matthew consumes my thoughts more often than not, and I can see him in the smallest of things. The problem is, Carson is that I am stubborn. In my head I knew that there were people there to help me all along, but I chose not to recognise it. I chose, because there was no other option that I could muster, to go about it alone. I have had a lot of conversations with people who care, and I have promised to talk to people when I need to. It's made things a bit more bearable I suppose, but I need to ensure that I don't let the stubbornness mix in with the grief. I'll get there. I have some wonderful people by my side."

"You're very strong, Lady Mary. Very strong. The best thing is to take it a step at a time. A day at a time. A minute at a time."

"I have been thinking actually. The thing about grief is that nobody talks about it. They speak of grief as just a word, but nobody ever discloses the truth of it until it happens to you. It's as if people can't physically speak of it to you until they know that you can relate to it. It's like their words will never prepare you for what is to come when you lose someone you love. Then, do you blame them? The people that know the true wrath of its power are ones that have been pushed down to their knees by its true and brutal force. It's like the first dandelion on a lawn. It appears, springs up and then spreads its seeds that then root in every field. They ravage, remove the sustenance and nutrients from the soil around it and eke into every gap that they can find. That is what grief is. It's a weed. At the same time, I have never truly noticed it in other people until I've felt it too. I think back to the time when Tom, Mama and Papa were suffering through their losses, and the pain was so clear I don't know how I was able to miss it. I suppose, selfishly, I was concentrating on myself. Through most of our lives, we look through rose coloured glasses. We see what we want to see or what we understand to be our reality. Nearly everyone around us is hurting in one way or another. Is this is what life is, Carson? Pain and suffering? Even when we are at our finest moment, we are tainted with the sadness that will be in our hearts. Will it always be there? Will it ever get better? See, I do not believe it will, Carson. I feel as if something like this will taint our lives forever. I am truly astounded by how the whole world has twisted into something completely different now as if the sun itself has changed colour."

"The loss of someone we hold dear is something that will naturally change us because that person had an impact on our life. We don't forget them, but we learn to live without them by our side. It doesn't mean the love goes away. It just means we tolerate the state of our being as it is. We learn to move forward because we have no choice but to do that. We must take stock of what we have around us, realise the positives that remain and take hold of them with both hands. People don't talk about grief because they prefer to leave it behind them for as long as they can. They have learnt to deal with their grief, put it to one side and learn to live their life again. Sometimes speaking of it can render the wall that they have built into nothing. What you say is true, to an extent, it's better to not speak of it because it's not something that can be understood until it's become a real event. When someone loses someone, there is something that can only be acknowledged by someone else that has felt it. It's like love. Until you have felt it, you can't put it into words for others to understand. You also can't relate to people that have felt it, until you have on the same level. I would say, My Lady, that you are lucky to have been able to feel the love that many people go their whole life without feeling. You are strong. You are loved."

Mary understood what he meant, and she instantly wondered if he was able to sing from the same song sheet as she on both levels. "Oh, Carson," she sighed. "I am so glad that you are still here with me."

"My Lady, the relief I feel at having you stood here by my side in a beautiful garden will no doubt mirror that sentiment. We were all so worried. I don't want you to think that you can't get through this. You can. No matter the time, no matter the day, no matter anything, my door is always open."

Mary smiled and nodded. "You're too good to me, Carson. I do wish there was something that I could do to repay your kindness and loyalty."

"There is, My Lady. Keep moving forward. Don't give up."

Hearing Carson talk about love, and how it's something that people can't relate to unless they had felt it themselves made her think about him. Did Carson understand it on the same level as her? Had he thought about the road that he and Mrs Hughes would have to face if they were to become a solid unit? It wasn't unheard of for people in their positions to be intertwined as they were. The Crawley family were of a high standing, but even they have had to traverse some treacherous paths over the years. They were not as uniform as people expected, and they had been known on occasion to follow their hearts rather than what they were expected to do. In her heart, she knew that it was not likely that her Papa would denounce the relationship that had formed between the two people that kept the home moving. If the relationship went sour, it could affect the running of the home. This would likely be the issue that her Papa would think about. Mary did not care much for thinking like that about them, because she had an inkling that the love and fondness that the two held for each other was one stronger than people would assume. Not only did Mary not care for that though, she also knew that if backing their corner would be a way of repaying even a slither of debt, then she would do it with every ounce of determination she had. Mary got what she wanted more often than not, and that was how she traversed the world. It was selfish, it was cold, but it was always for the best intentions for herself and what she needed.

Carson had been the pillar to her life since day one and never had he asked for anything. That was just the type of man that he was. Carson was loyal, fierce, and cut from the finest of cloth. It was also likely because he thought of it as part of his job. What Mary did wonder was how the loyalty he had for the home would contend with the love he had for Mrs Hughes if asked to choose. Carson rarely spoke of his life outside of the home, because his role had been his life. Mary would make this work for him, so he would never have to choose. The fear that if he had to choose, and he picked Mrs Hughes over his role and have to leave was almost as pointed as the fear she had when she thought that he would die. Carson wouldn't be around any longer if that route was chosen. No, she would have her way because she owed Carson, and she knew that she couldn't think about him not being there whilst she tried to fix herself. Not only that, but she wanted him to be a part of her life for as long as it were possible. Mr Carson was special to her and the home, and now Mrs Hughes. They had a debt to him and Mary would ensure that it was repaid. First, she had to let him know that she was willing to do that for him. That was going to be part one.

"I bumped into Mrs Hughes last night," Mary said softly, turning to look towards the tree. "It was very kind of her to come down at such a late hour to see how you were."

Carson, at the sound of Mrs Hughes' name, felt his stomach erupt as the butterflies began to fly. Instantly, Carson tried to gauge where the conversation was going. Curiosity laced the tone of her voice. The confidence and edge to her voice made his eyes shift to the side so he could look at her. The change in him after speaking about love had not gone unnoticed. "Yes, My Lady. I was quite surprised. It was lovely to have the unexpected company. She's let me know that everything is going as it should be at the house, so I need not worry."

"But no doubt you've been thinking about it," Mary smirked. There were two contexts to her statement. One was she knew that he would be thinking about the home and if his standards were being kept up, and the other would be about whatever interaction had gone on that night. Mary had seen him hold Mrs Hughes' face. For a man of his age and stature, she knew that it was one of the least rigid things she had ever seen him do.

"Old habits die hard, My Lady. I like things done a certain way. I trust Mrs Hughes. She is good at her job," Carson paused to open his arm outwards to signal, if permitted, to start walking. "Shall we?"

They both began a slow and steady walk around the garden. "She has been over a lot. I know you won't remember the others because you were unconscious. It makes me think that she must be a very good friend to you."

Carson exhaled. "Yes, My Lady. We have worked together for many years. We have sat at the same table, walked the same halls and seen many things in our time. We are friends. We are very good friends. Not only that, but she is made of a strong core, she is kind and she is firm. Like you, she fights for what she believes in."

"I must say, Carson. I feel frightfully annoyed with myself that I didn't know that about you. You have been so loyal to me, and for so long, and yet I don't feel that I have given you the same courtesy. What do I know about your life outside of the walls? It's pitiful."

"My Lady, you have, and always will have a lot on your plate. You are Lady Mary Crawley, and so you must take hold of this world in a completely different manner to the likes of I. I live a simple life, and what you see is what I am. I have very little to deviate from how you see me."

"It's strange. After all of this, I feel as if I do not know you as well as I should. I would like to change that if it is at all possible?"

Carson felt surprised, but then this transitioned to a feeling of discomfort when he allowed himself to think about what she was saying. This was not a likely topic of conversation. Had everything that had happened made her more observant to the people around her? It was usual in people that lived the life that Lady Mary Crawley lived to not care much for the servants, and she had never explicitly asked him about his life, and nor would he expect her to. That was not how their relationship worked.

There were things about his life that he didn't need to talk about. There were things in his past that he wanted to keep in his past. Carson was there to do his job, and he was there to back her corner and fight for whatever it was she believed in. Of course, he had grown to care for her at a far deeper level than his job dictated. This did not bother him, because it had been a pleasure to watch her grow to the woman she was now. It was not his job to rattle on about his own life. It was not for her to know. It was not for her to care about. Lady Mary Crawley had been given a destiny from the very moment she took her very first breath. Learning about the life of her Butler to such a degree didn't seem proper. But really, his life hadn't been the most interesting, so what was there to tell? "My Lady-"

"I know it's not within the social construct of our statuses in this world, Carson. We are old friends, you and I. You have been so wonderful to me for so long. I don't remember a time when you haven't been there for me. You always know what to say and how to lift me up. I think you know almost everything there is to know about me, but then there is so much that I do not know about you." Mary paused to watch his face. Noticing the discomfort in his eyes, she backtracked slightly. "I suppose the main thing is that if you should ever need something, if you should ever need me to back your corner as you have done for me, then I want you to be able to come to me."

"My Lady-"

"Carson, I owe you my _life_," she stressed. "I would not be standing here now without you."

Carson nodded, hearing the force behind her voice he retreated. "Thank you, My Lady."

They fell into silence as the pair of them got lost in their thoughts. Mary felt impatient about waiting to see if Carson would say anything about Mrs Hughes, and Carson thought about how he didn't think he would ever be completely comfortable in seeking her out if he ever needed help. That was not how their roles worked in this world.

Mary felt in her stomach that propriety would always be at the forefront of Carson's mind. That, mixed with his sturdy resolve, meant that he would likely never make the first move. What Mary wanted him to know and understand was that she would have their corner if they chose to disclose the status of their relationship to her and the family. Although she doubted that there would be much that would go against it, she wanted him to know more than anything that she would do whatever she could to ensure that he could carry on with his life, but also feel the happiness of having love in his life. Should she just come out and say it?

Mary moved so she stood directly ahead of Carson. "I want you to know something."

Carson tilted his head. "Yes, My Lady?"

"That I would be ok with it," she said coolly, putting her hands together as she kept her focus on his eyes. "I want you to be happy. And so, I would be fine with it."

"My Lady?"

Mary sighed in an exasperated manner. "Mrs Hughes. You spoke earlier about how grief and love can only be understood between people if both sides of the coin have felt them. I know love, Carson."

Mary had known love with Matthew and had lost it. This made her swallow as she tried to get her mind back onto the right track. The panic reared its ugly head and reignited like an idle ember gently pushed by a breeze. "I've watched, I've seen and I've witnessed the way that you two are with each other. I saw the way you took her face in your hand, and the expression on your face this morning. Mrs Hughes is the woman that you love. I'm sure you wouldn't want people to find out like this, and that you would like for it to be done your way. Regardless, if she is the woman that you want in your life. If she is the woman that makes your day better, your nights warmer and your heart feel alive, then I will be ok with it." Mary closed her eyes and tried to force the presence of Matthew from her words. As Carson had said, people only understood love when they had felt it themselves. Matthew had made her nights warmer, he had made her life better, and now she had to face it all without him.

Carson could see Mary's eyes grow wide as she spoke and he could tell that she was getting upset, so he moved a little closer to her. In response, she lifted her hands so they were flat and facing towards him as if she just wanted a moment to get what she needed to say out in the open before the panic reached the brim. "Don't think that I am permitting you to love her, because love doesn't need permission, and you do not need to seek that out from us even though you feel you might need to. I just feel that I need to tell you that I would be fine with it. Love is precious, delicate, powerful, raw and hard to find," Mary paused to take a breath and steady herself. This conversation had awoken the grief with full force, but she knew she had to carry on. She had started something and she needed to finish it so that she could let Carson know he could carry on with his life like normal. It was important to her. It was important to him. What she wanted was to walk away from the conversation so she could reign in her feelings, but she was speaking now, and it was coming out at force.

"It's ok, My Lady," Carson whispered. The desire to soothe her was strong. It pained him to see her when she was upset.

Mary shook her head. "If this is how you can feel as happy as Matthew and I...as I was, then you can not pass it up. I will not allow it. I will truly be fine with it and demand that you take it with both hands because you never... E-ever know when it will be removed from you." Mary hung her head for a moment before lifting her hand to her face. She quickly flicked away that tear with her finger. "Trust me when I say this. Do not let it go if you have the chance to have it in your life. You need to treasure it, nurture it and let it fill your whole body. I know you love your job, that you love serving this family, and so I want you to feel at ease in knowing that you have our backing so you don't have to choose. I mean, look around, times are changing with the tick of every second. It happens more often these days. Most of all, I think," she said softly. "Is that I don't want you to leave. You mean too much to us for that."

Carson blinked in a bewildered manner. "Leave, My Lady?"

"I know propriety is one of your strengths, and why the Abbey stands tall and firm whilst others around it crumble. I know that potentially you may feel the need to choose between being able to do your job and love Mrs Hughes. You do not have to choose. I don't know how Papa would feel about it, but there is not much of a chance that I will back down to allow anything to remove you from my life. You can both do your job and be together because I know that you will never let anything alter the way that you run the house. You are the epitome of propriety. I want you to be able to have your cake and eat it," she exasperated with a tiny smile that then morphed into a sob. "I want you to be happy." The image of Matthew shot to the front of her mind, and she could feel it eat away at her. The feeling of having someone you loved to share your life with, to feel happy with, to be with and love. Mary moved her hand up to her mouth and began to cry. "I-I want you to have what I can't." Mary trailed off, the last sentence taking root in her thoughts and making her finally bubble over the edge. The grief and panic needed to escape. This was not how she thought the conversation was going to go. But then really, the thoughts of Matthew and what she was missing always appeared when she least expected it.

Carson stepped forward and brought her close to him. The palm of her hand rested just below his shoulder, and she placed her cheek flat against it as she quietly wept against him. All the speaking of love, and having someone to love and cherish had made the grief that she had tried to ground herself from rear its ugly head without any warning. The emotion and truth behind her words, which she had wanted to give to Carson so he knew what she would do for him, had twisted in her stomach and made her take a step backwards. In response, Carson stood strong and firm as she leant into him. The arm furthest away from her head came up and rested across her shoulders, pulling her into him so she had as much support as she needed. It made him feel sad and so he whispered words of reassurance into her ear as she cried.

Carson was confused, shocked and sad at what had unfolded in front of him. In those words, he could tell that she was trying to offer him something wonderful and pure. The thoughts of love had reminded her of Matthew and had been enough to rattle her into the emotional stupor she was in at that moment. So, as she leant into him, he squeezed her tight to let her know that he was there to support her. "Just let it out, Lady Mary. Just let it out."

Mary allowed herself to cry, as Carson said for her to do, and she did until she was able to reign it in. It took a few moments, but then she lifted her head and took a step back. "Well," she whispered. "That's not how I wanted to tell you that."

Carson smiled. "Do not worry yourself about that. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Whatever you need."

Mary smiled and wiped the corner of her eye. "I hope you don't think I'm intruding."

Carson realised she was speaking about the fact that she knew about Mrs Hughes. "No, of course not, My Lady." He thought that it was kind, intrusive, bold and it was very much everything that Mary was. Mrs Hughes and Carson had not reached the point where they had thought about how and when they would tell the family. It was so new that they had not even discussed the logistics of their feelings. They didn't even know between themselves what they were planning on doing with it. At best, Carson thought that he would have had some time to think about and speak to Mrs Hughes in more detail about what they wanted. They loved each other, very very much, and of course, Carson wanted to make her his wife. But it was new, it was fresh, and they needed to be sensible and follow the river until they were ready to enter the sea.

"I mean what I said. I fully support you."

Carson smiled a huge smile. It meant more to him than he could ever express, to know that his Lady Mary accepted the love he had for Mrs Hughes. Although he hadn't thought about when he would tell the family, it made him confident and happy that he knew that they had her backing. If anything, that would have been the largest mountain to climb. It would have been horrific to learn that Lady Mary did not approve because then that would leave him in a difficult situation. Lady Mary accepted Mrs Hughes as the love in his life. It was the icing on the proverbial cake to know that she wanted him to have all of the things that he loved. The past 24 hours had been one of the most amazing in his life. "My Lady. I really and truly am thankful for what you have said to me. I know it must have been hard, as it must remind you of what you have lost. But it does mean the world to me that you have my corner."

Mary smiled. "Well then," she said in a forced cheery manner. "I think Papa is coming down later today. Mama sent a message up. I can talk to him and get this ironed out so you don't have to worry about it?"

Carson shook his head. "It's a lovely thought and gesture, My Lady. Do not think me rude, but I feel that I should, when the time is right, talk to him myself. I do not believe that we are at that time as of yet. This is very new to me, very new to us, and I don't want to run into something without talking to Mrs Hughes first. We haven't broached the subject. We have much to talk about before we get there."

Mary nodded in agreeance. "I'm sorry, I got a little carried away. I can be there to back your corner when the time is right?"

Carson's face softened, and he smiled a broad smile. "Having you in my corner makes all the difference, My Lady. All the difference indeed."

"Well, that settles it then." Mary moved to be by his side and they started walking around the garden again. "It's very exciting," she said softly, ignoring the pang of pain in her chest. It had already overcome her once, and she would not let it happen again. Faltering was allowed, but she had to make sure that it didn't take root. Just one step at a time, as Carson said, and that was what she was going to do.

"It is certainly that and more, Lady Mary."

"If there is anything else I can do to help, please just ask. I owe you after all."

Carson stopped his walk forward. "Lady Mary, if I may. Do not think me impertinent but I refuse to allow you to hold yourself in an area of debt to me. I am in no position to hold that over you. Please, just allow me to do what I can for you and leave it at that. It is my wish, and if that is the wish that you can fulfil then please take that as a completion of the debt. I have a full life, and that is all I have ever wished for. I need nothing more. To know you are ok, to know that I have so much in my life is enough."

Mary nodded. In her mind, it wasn't the end of her debt to him, but she knew that he would not accept anything else from her. If she had to, she would do things without his knowledge. Mary knew she had a debt, and she would repay it in any way that she could. Maybe further down the line, if they got married, she could make sure that they had a splendid wedding? Whatever it would be, she would do what she could to help him. Carson was proud, but then so was she.

The bell from the nearby church began to chime, and the pair of them turned their heads towards it. "Hour by hour, Carson," Mary muttered. "I'll take it hour by hour."

Carson nodded with a smile on his face. "And I will be here at every second of that hour if you need it."

* * *

**P.S I know potentially some people may think that some of the dialogue wouldn't happen due to the fact that Carson is just a Butler etc. I just think that their relationship is so special, and with what Mary has been through that potentially she has undertaken a bit of a change. It might only be temporary, but enough for this to happen :) I really enjoyed writing it regardless 3**


	30. Chapter 30

**I'm going to try and get one more chapter out until I go on holiday (if I go on holiday). My goal was to have it completed by then. Given everything going on at the moment, it's just been difficult to find time to get writing done. Let us see what happens.**

* * *

Carson stood with his eyebrows raised in shock. They were like small angry caterpillars, bent into an unusual arch as he listened. The hairs on his neck stood on end like tiny soldiers, rising to salute the passing breeze that seemed to move over his skin. The contents of his stomach twisted and turned, sloshing against the sides like angry waves. Everything within him was reacting in one innate response. In his head, he tried to control the emotions writhing around him like a snake that was rearing its head to strike. Carson was generally a calm man that could keep himself steady and not react to situations. The most he would usually get like was a bit short and irritated, but that would pass once he caught his breath. This scenario rocked him to his core.

Robert stood with a bemused look on his face. Everything about his stance, posture and facial expression signalled to Carson that he was not happy. The struggle on his face showed that he was conflicted with what he was trying to say. The man that he had worked for over the years was unhappy. Carson felt disjointed and on edge as he tried to rationalise the situation.

"I just don't understand how you would think this would work, Carson. You of all people, who follow propriety as if it were your Bible, would walk down this unbeaten track." Robert lifted his head upwards and closed his eyes, seemingly to have a hard think.

Carson had recoiled at his words. Throughout his working years, he had been proud to be the one that ensured things were completed correctly. There was a perfect way to do every task. There was a path to follow to get to the correct destination. It made him feel like he was a disappointment to not only himself but to his employer. Carson knew that it was something he couldn't help because he had found something in his life that he could not ignore. To Mrs Hughes, he was not a disappointment. The love that Carson felt for her was not a disappointment, and yet he still felt like one at that moment. What was he meant to do? Everything in his life had accumulated to the single most beautiful moment he had ever experienced. Mrs Hughes had told him something that he had never thought that he would hear. Years of feelings that he had squashed and tried to ignore had been able to break free. This emotional freedom had made him feel liberated, happy and calm. Both Downton and Mrs Hughes were his world. The best of all of him. They both resonated within him like the chime of a bell. They made his core. They were him. When the situation he was in at that moment had started to unfold it had left him feeling so unbelievably sad.

"It's no good, Carson. We just can't have the both of you at the helm. I don't want anything to jeopardise the status of this home. It's why often commanding officers are separate. Things need to remain objective. I know you could argue about Anna and Bates, but their roles are not as important I'm afraid to say. I'm sure you of all people can understand?" Robert's eyes seemed to plead with Carson. It was if he wanted Carson to justify and agree with what he was saying. It was if he was trying to make himself feel better because he knew that he was telling him something hard for him to hear.

Carson did understand. The part of him that walked the line that his job dictated was nodding aggressively. The other part of him that felt so emotionally tied to the family, and to Mrs Hughes was shaking its head with such ferocity that it almost made him feel dizzy. Carson knew that it was a question that needed an actual answer, but the words did not formulate quickly in his mind. The air in his throat seemed to expand and prevent him from making a sound. So he stood like a rabbit in a spotlight with wide apologetic eyes. The contents of his stomach began to bubble and spit as they tried to break out and into his oesophagus.

Robert eyed him carefully. It was as if he was taken back by the lack of response. So, as any person would, he filled that gap with more words. More reasons. More justification. "In all honesty, I'd rather lose Mrs Hughes above you. I think the best way for this to work is for Mrs Hughes to give up her position and we keep you steering at the front. I see it is the most logical way. It's the way that makes sense. We owe you for a lot and you have served us well for many years so I don't want it to be you."

Carson felt himself break out into a cold sweat. It was nerves. It was him trying to control himself and come to terms with what was unfolding. Why had he allowed a part of him to think that the relationship he had with Mrs Hughes would be accepted? It was wrong of him. It was ridiculous. The idea of Mrs Hughes losing her job through no fault of her own was enough to make him close his eyes and push down the rising nausea that was increasing by the second. The thought of not having her by his side every working day. Why did he have to choose? That question was the side of him that wanted to believe that everything was going to be ok. That part of him was like a teenager rebelling against conformity for the sake of love. It was the part of him that he had thought he had buried a long time ago. In all common decency, he could not move forward with allowing Mrs Hughes to lose what she had worked so hard towards. The number of houses nearby that she could work in was almost non-existent. At least not to the level of skill that she had. That meant she would have to travel for work. That meant that he would see her less than what he wanted and needed.

As Carson began to rationalise his approach, his ears closed off to the sound of everything around him. In his mind's eye, he pictured her staring back at him when they had some time to themselves. It was the stare that he had never realised was one that meant more than he had ever thought. It was love. The evenings in each others company, the sly moments they got during the day to catch up, the brushes, the smiles and the overwhelming feeling of happiness. Carson could find work nearby. It might not be anything worthy of his skill set. At his age, and with everything he had saved, it was enough to keep him going. It was enough so that he could be with her as many hours of the day that he could muster. He could allow Mrs Hughes to get another job and use their savings to make up the deficit, but he knew he could not let that happen. He would not allow Mrs Hughes to downgrade herself for the sake of their relationship.

Carson took in a deep breath of air. Then he sighed and moved his eyes to lock with the man standing before him. "My Lord, it is with deep deep regret-"

Robert's eyes instantly grew wide and he lifted his hand to stop the sentence from moving any further. "Carson, think about what it is you're going to say before you say it. I beg you."

Carson looked up to see the worry mixing in with the disappointment. It was no use. Mrs Hughes was the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Over the years they had moved into something special, and he knew that it was his last chance. She was the one for him. Mrs Hughes was his world. "It is with deep regret, My Lord, that I offer you my resignation. If this is the only option, then I can not move forward with a clear conscience in allowing Mrs Hughes to lose her post. I can spend time with whoever takes my post to ensure that things are done correctly. I will do whatever it takes."

The air went still.

"Then so be it."

It echoed around him like he was standing in a vast and empty room. The temperature around him dropped to the same bitter level it was when he had been out in the woods. Something inside him snapped as if the words that had been spoken to him had broken something big inside. The words were so final. They were so real. Carson reached out to take hold of whatever it was that he had in his periphery. As his hand took it in a strong grip, it vanished, and he felt himself fall. He tried to yell.

* * *

Carson's eyes opened with a start, and he shot up into a sitting position as he tried to focus on the space around him. In a moment of temporary disorientation, he couldn't quite figure out where he was. It took a second of him blinking and steadying himself before he was able to familiarise himself with the room. It was still the hospital. The hammering of his heart in his chest made him lift his hand to his body so he could feel it pulsating under his skin. It hammered hard as if it was trying to break free. The contents of his stomach gurgled like the sound of water swirling down a drain. It had only been a dream, a horrible and gut-wrenching dream.

When he rationalised he felt the worry evaporate from his muscles. They had tensed up throughout his tired body, almost to the point that they hurt. It was if his body had been ready to feel the impact of the bottom of the hole that he had felt himself fall down. The anxiousness that he had felt at hearing his employer speak that way hadn't left. He knew that the feeling would never truly leave now until he was able to find out what the family thought about it. There was going to be that small slither in him that thought that it would not end well. There was a reason he had dreamt it in the first place. It must have been something in his subconscious that had awoken at the conversation he had had with Lady Mary, not all that long before.

Carson reached up to touch his neck, a tickling feeling moving down his skin as a bead of sweat traced itself towards his chest. As his fingers reached up he could feel that his whole neck area was slick with sweat. It was as if he had been running. There was a small hand towel at the side of his bed, and so he picked it up and began to dab at the back and sides of his neck and chest. With his other hand, he went to wipe at his brow and he could feel that it was wet as the ground on a gloomy and drizzly morning.

What time was it? Searching with his eyes he tried to pinpoint the face of a clock. It hadn't even been 30 minutes since he had come back up to his room. Once he had got himself settled into his bed he must have nodded off for just a moment. It had been enough though for his mind to play out the horrible scene in his head. The days being cooped up in the hospital had left him feeling out of sorts, his body clock being thrown into absolute chaos without the routine he had worked to for many years. He was tired. He felt drained. It was as if the dream had sapped whatever energy he had been able to recoup over the days gone by. It had been one of the first times in many years that he could feel how emotionally drained he had been. The worry when Mary was missing. Seeing her in that sorry state in the woods. Having to hold her whilst she broke down and then trying to reason with her to get her back on the track to recovery. Then everything with Mrs Hughes. Emotional exhaustion, he felt, was a different level of tired. It was not something he was used to. Being idle in the hospital didn't help either, because had no other choice but to let his thoughts move around his brain. The distraction that his book or conversation with Mary was a welcome break.

In the distance, he could hear the echo of voices coming from down the hall, and his ears pricked up as he tried to figure out who they were coming from. It could be several people. Just in case they were heading in his direction, he got the towel and gave himself another wipe down so that he could look somewhat presentable. It was always good to be prepared, and so he tried to be as he sat expectantly. If the voices were to pass him by, it wouldn't matter.

"I tell you, it was most unusual," Robert said, coming into view with Cora by his side. Her arm was looped through his and they both stopped talking as they looked into the room. "Carson, my dear fellow!" Robert boomed, striding quickly over to where Carson was.

Even the sight of Robert made something within him twitch. It was a subconscious reaction to something that hadn't even taken place in the real world. Carson scrambled up to his feet, flinging the covers unceremoniously to the side so he could stand to attention. "My Lord."

Robert wanted to tell him to get back into bed and that he wasn't working. This was a visit of friendship and not service. However, there was something that he wanted to do that would be easier and with a greater level of respect if it was done standing. Robert reached out with his hand, his palm flat and facing to the wall. He looked Carson steadfast in the eye.

Carson looked down at his outstretched hand and felt his heart begin to beat harder and faster, adding to the quick tempo it had adopted after his dream. Instantly he felt pride. Lord Grantham wanted to shake his hand, and this was a stark contrast to the behaviour he had exhibited in his dream. Carson lifted his gaze to look him in the eye, and he reached out to take a firm grip. They shook hands.

"Thank you, Carson. There are no words that I can use to express what you have done for this family. You were determined, you persevered and you found Mary. I fear that it may have been too late if you hadn't stuck it out and stayed by her side. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you, and so, I am in many ways, in your debt." There was a sparkle in Robert's eye and he smiled. It was a genuine and heartfelt smile. Robert Crawley was an emotional man. Some thought it was a detriment to his character, but to many others, especially those who served him, it was the complete opposite. The man showed compassion and loyalty when others in his position would be nowhere near as human and kind.

Carson squeezed and firmly shook his hand. Then he slowly shook his head. "No, My Lord. I did what I did, and I do what I do for the family. It wasn't a part of my job that lead me to do what I did."

Robert and Carson shared a knowing gaze. Robert knew that Carson loved his daughter. Carson knew that Robert knew that too. "Yes. Well. We are thankful for that either way. Again. We are in your debt. If there is ever anything that you need please do not hesitate to come to me. We are lucky to have you, Carson. Truly."

Cora stood in the background with a smile on her face. "We are ever so thankful, Carson."

"Ah, Good Morning." Dr Clarkson said as he walked into the room with a smile on his face. "I was just coming to see Mr Carson."

"I hope it's good news?" Robert queried, turning his head to watch as the Doctor moved closer to where they all were.

"Yes, I'd say so actually. I'd like to have a moment with Mr Carson if that's ok?" Dr Clarkson smiled and waited courteously.

"I'm more than happy for you to talk openly, Dr Clarkson. Especially if it is good news."

Dr Clarkson made eye contact with both Carson and Robert and then lifted his clipboard. "Everything seems to be going well. You've not shown any signs of any lasting ill-effect from the head injury. I believe that you're well on the road to recovery so I would say that you are in a position to leave the hospital tomorrow."

"Oh, jolly good!" Robert roared happily, raising his hands in the air as he did. "It will be wonderful to have you back."

"That means Mary will come back home too," Cora said with a smile on her face. "It was kind of her to wait until you were well enough to go back, Carson."

"Yes, My Lady," Carson replied happily. "I'm looking forward to getting back into the swing of things I must say."

"You won't be the only one I believe. It will be good to get Mrs Hughes back into her usual role." Cora moved over to Robert and took his hand. "Wonderful news," she grinned.

"Now, I would give it a few days before you start working again. Even then, I would take it easy. Just ease yourself back in. I'm sure you agree, Lord Grantham, that we don't want to push him too hard?" Dr Clarkson raised his eyebrows with a knowing smile.

"Of course! No, we can sort something out. It'll just be good to have everyone home." Robert squeezed Cora's hand.

"I do advise that you come back down here after a week so I can examine you. If you feel anything unusual come back straight away. Look out for double vision, issues with memory, increased pain in and around your head. That sort of thing."

"Yes, Dr Clarkson. Thank you." Carson felt relief in knowing that he was going to be able to go back to familiar surroundings. It was going to be comforting to know he was going to be back under the same roof as Mrs Hughes, and that Mary was going to be heading back with him. In his mind and heart, he hoped that this was going to be the end of the turbulence, that he was going to see a true smile on Mary's face someday soon. The mountain that he had to climb with Mrs Hughes around their relationship, with the family and with the world was potentially going to be tough. It was something they needed to discuss and traverse together. At that moment he pushed the unease in his stomach that the dream had dislodged to one side and let himself feel happy in the fact that things were going to be better.

"We better get in and give Mary a quick hello before we set off." Robert lifted his hand and placed it on Carson's shoulder. "I mean it. We are so blessed that you were able to bring her back to us, Carson. If there is anything you need. Just ask."

Carson nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

"Right, we best make a move. We shall see you tomorrow. I'll send a car up to come and collect you both. I'll get the arrangements made once we know what time you'll be out." Robert's smile was broad as he took Cora's hand again. They were both eager to put aside the days gone by, and they both had the same feeling of relief coursing through their veins. They walked out hand in hand with Dr Clarkson lagging just behind them.

Once the room was empty, Carson took a seat back on the bed. He felt a genuine rush of relief that he was going to get to go back to his home. Although it wasn't his home, it was the only place where he had ever felt the pull and connection to keep him there. It was a comfort to him. The people that walked the halls, the people that lived there and the people that served them were all in an amalgamated version of a family he never had. Not only that, but he wanted to be close with Mrs Hughes once more. The privacy they could have in the hospital was one part that he knew that he was going to miss because there wasn't anyone around that would have anything to say about anything that they did. But he had missed being busy, he had missed the structure that his job offered to his day, and he missed being able to get stuck into the tasks at hand. Knowing that Mary was going to be going home also made him feel happy, but also slightly on edge. In his mind, he knew that the Abbey offered memories of pain, of sadness and of happiness that she didn't have any more. If they were both going back together, he knew he would be able to keep an eye on her like he always did. As he had told her, he would do whatever it took.

As he sat thinking about everything, he pictured Mrs Hughes for the hundredth time that day. What he wanted to do, and couldn't wait to do, was wrap her in his arms. The idea had burned into his thoughts over the years. Now he could do so because he knew that it would be greatly received. Carson wasn't a naturally affectionate person, but he knew that she had ignited the desire for the human connection within him. The life he had lived had been rigid. The times he had shown it were times when he had been required. It was rarely ever returned to him. It still took a lot for him to realise that he had a road ahead of him where he could have that. He could have someone genuinely want to return that affection. Everything felt new and raw, and although he knew that there were things they needed to talk about, he felt excited. He felt alive. He felt like the next chapter in his life was going to make up for everything that he had missed out on over the years. What he wanted more than anything was to keep his world intact. The dream, or nightmare really, had made him think that potentially he was going to have to split the perfect little world he could have in half. That was terrifying. Whether the chance was as small as a grain of sand or not, it was still a possibility. What he wanted was Mrs Hughes as his wife, working by his side so he could continue the mission and life that he had lived so far. The fear of the unknown was difficult to swallow. It had to work out. It had just had to.


	31. Chapter 31

**I'm quite happy with how quickly I got this chapter ready. I might even get one more out before my holiday. We shall see :) 3**

* * *

"A party?" Mrs Patmore exclaimed from behind the table. The crease on her forehead signalled to Mrs Hughes that she was already annoyed. It didn't take much sometimes, especially if Daisy had wound her up sometime before. Mrs Hughes often had to pull her in from her anger, or try and make her laugh it off. It was one of those days where her temper was short, and it hadn't been the first time she had heard her yell about something.

"Yes, a party of sorts." Mrs Hughes stared expectantly at Mrs Patmore who had turned herself around in a strop and manhandled a frying pan on the side. "Just a small get together."

"Just a small get together?" she replied as she turned and narrowed her eyes. As when she was annoyed, her hair seemed to match her mood. The more hot and bothered she got, the more her red hair twisted outwards as if she had touched electricity.

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say?" Mrs Hughes exasperated with wide eyes and a slight smirk at the corner of her mouth. She probably should be a little firmer with her, to stop her from getting even more annoyed, but the cook had been kind to her recently. It wasn't directed at anyone anyway.

"I do appreciate notice, ya know. It makes my life easier." Mrs Patmore sighed. "I'll have to check the stores and see what we've got to work with. Whatever is it for? It doesn't seem like it's exactly the right time to be partyin'." The frying pan landed with a loud and ear ringing clang.

"His Lordship wants to do something special for Lady Mary and Mr Carson's return. I think that it's a lovely idea. God knows we need something to look forward to. Her Ladyship has said that it would be nice to have it down here in fact. Just a few nibbles, some drinks and a good time if I remember their words correctly. They're both coming home from the hospital tomorrow. I did ask if he would prefer it upstairs, but he said he wants everyone involved. It was good of us all to help when we did, and he wants it to be nice for Mr Carson especially." Mrs Hughes genuinely felt warmed by the notion. It reaffirmed that they were a good family, and they had a good heart. After all, Carson had nearly perished in trying to save Mary from herself, and they were trying to do something for him. The thing that was warming her more than anything was the idea that he was going to be home. Not only that but he was going to be within arms reach for her. In her head, she imagined being able to hug him and hold him close if she wanted to behind the closed door of his pantry. It did dawn on her that he might not find that proper in the home. They hadn't spoken about the logistics of what their relationship was going to entail yet. She just wanted to be held. It was a human need for closeness, but also because she had been thinking about it for a very long time. There was a desire to be held tightly against his chest. What she wanted was to feel him pressed against her as her arms wrapped tightly around his back. It was those simple things that made a relationship.

"What are we talkin'? Sandwiches and pies? Vol-au-vants and Oysters Rockerfeller? What time is this taking place?" Mrs Patmore, if she could, would likely have steam roaring out of her ears if it were physically possible.

"His Lordship said something simple, early evening roughly. We will know more about the time tomorrow. I am sure you'll think of something? Come now, wipe that frown off of your face. It's going to be lovely. Let's just remind ourselves that things will be getting back to normal soon." Mrs Hughes' facial expression was soft and relaxed as she gazed upon Mrs Patmore and her crinkled face.

Staring at her friend, who looked happy even though she wasn't smiling, Mrs Patmore exhaled and straightened herself out. "Well, we all know what you're lookin' forward to." Mrs Patmore quipped before taking the abused frying pan and hanging it up on a hook.

Mrs Hughes narrowed her eyes playfully. "Shhhh, will you."

"What?" Mrs Patmore's face was expelling mock innocence. "You know, lookin' forward to things gettin' back to normal. Silly."

Mrs Hughes grinned but didn't say a word. There were still people floating around. "Can I leave you to arrange that then if it's not too much trouble?"

Mrs Patmore turned and nodded her head. "I'll throw something together. I'll look through what we have and then start on it in the morning. It won't be anything fancy. Would you be able to sort the drinks out?"

"I'll speak to his Lordship in the morning. It'll be fine. Thank you, Mrs Patmore." Mrs Hughes had a look around before turning back to her friend. "I'm just stepping out for a short while by the way."

"Oh, are you? Going down to the hospital?" Mrs Patmore raised her eyebrows and tilted her head.

"Yes. I won't be late. I just want to pop in and see how he is. Is there anything you need from me before I go?"

Mrs Patmore shook her head. "No, I don't think so. It's gone quiet for the evening anyway."

"Yes, it has. Everyone seems so exhausted. Even his Lord and Ladyship have been retiring early in the evenings now." Mrs Patmore tapped her fingers on the table as she ran through the jobs that needed doing before the morning. "I can pick up the odd job before I go to bed anyway."

"Well, have a nice time." Mrs Patmore smirked. "I'll go and look now and see what we have that I can make last minute. If there's anything urgent we might need I can get it sent for tomorrow."

"Yes, thank you." Mrs Patmore turned and headed to get her jacket. There were still butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing him. Would this always be like that? Would she feel nervous because she knew that their love was mutual? Whatever it was, she knew that she couldn't wait to just be in his presence. It had almost become a craving.

* * *

Mary sat on a small bench at the rear of the hospital. It was located at the edge of the building just as you rounded the corner from the entrance. It touched slightly on the edge of the grass, and she dangled her feet and kicked at the blades aimlessly with her feet as she inhaled a deep refreshing breath. The air bit at her skin slightly, so she lifted her shawl around her body and pulled it in tight. It wouldn't do much, but she didn't feel like going in just yet so she knew she had to put up with it.

The sky had moved into the dark blues and purples that signalled that the day was at an end. The night was going to take over the world for its place in time. It was her last night at the hospital and it was all so bitter-sweet. At first, she thought that she should get a decent nights rest, but there was an innate feeling of wanting to be free for just that second longer. This place had become her solace, and she needed to make the most of it. At the same time, she knew that she had to go back and begin her life again. Things were at a stalemate in her mind.

Time moved slowly, and as she gazed up at the sky she could see the tiny pricks of light that were breaking through the dark blanket that had covered the horizon. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite place. Gathering her thoughts, thinking about what it could be, she pictured the Abbey and her family. Tracing her way through the halls, she imagined each room and each person. Things were going to return to a level of normalcy, and she knew deep within her heart that she was terrified. There was something about being away from it all that filled her with a slither of calm. There were fewer distractions, less required of her and it was simple. Mary did know, however, that there was one thing she knew that she couldn't ignore any longer. It wasn't her grief. She had to accept that and move forward as best as she could. It was George. That beautiful boy was her only real physical tie to her beloved husband. The blonde hair on his head. All the different shades of blue in his eyes. Every part of his porcelain skin. It all reminded her of Matthew. Although she had been encompassed by her grief, and often did things she hadn't realised, she knew that she had avoided her maternal responsibilities with an increased level of conscious effort.

Being away from her life had made her appreciate how important the simple things in life were. The people she missed were the ones that she needed to hold closer. The jobs and things she did that she missed were the things she needed to do more of. Mary had to live her life for her son. The avoidance of her son was a reflection of the pain in her heart. It had pushed aside the maternal love. To try and get over Matthew's death meant that she had to ignore George because of how much he reminded her of him. To truly begin to move forward with her life she had to be a proper mother to her son. She had to instil Matthew's loves, beliefs and wishes to the boy that caused her so much pain. She wanted to be interested in him. She had to be interested in him. What if she always held something bitter in there against him just because he was the picture of his father? It was all a bit too much to try and fathom. This had been the longest she had thought about it since she had arrived at the hospital. Addressing it seemed to be the final thing that she had to get through. It was the clearest she had been able to think in such a long time that it made her rationalise too much about her situation. It left her feeling scared. Very scared. In all honesty, she was terrified. It was the point in her life where she had to accept responsibility for her son for what he was. Matthew's son. Their son. Her son. An heir. Mary's darling boy.

Truly terrified.

As she continued to stare up at the sky, she felt herself begin to think of Matthew. They had on numerous occasions spent time outside staring up at the stars as they moved into view. There was something about the ethereal night sky when it was clear and dark that Matthew had been drawn to. He liked simple things. Matthew saw the best in everything around him, and he did his best to show her the world through his eyes. It was the times they had together when they were alone that she missed the most. They were pure, honest and simple. Being able to talk to him, touch him and be close to him seemed like a distant memory. Maybe that was why she enjoyed the hospital so much? The simplicity made her appreciate more than she thought she would, which was so very Matthew. Maybe his loss to her would bring something softer out of her after all?

"I miss you so much, my darling Matthew," she whispered, keeping her eye fixed onto the brightest star in the sky. He had told her the name of that star once, and it annoyed her that she couldn't remember it now. What else would she forget the further away from his memory she got? That thought made her ache.

"I pray, and you know I would never normally say it, that I never forget the way you made me feel. I pray that I never forget the things you showed me, that you taught me, and that you enriched my life with. I want to show George who you were as a man, and who you would have been as a Father." Mary felt the sadness begin to stir within her, starting an incline into her chest. It was a little different. It was a longing for him that surfaced first, an aching in her chest that burnt like the fire of a thousand suns. "I miss your smile. I miss your eyes. I miss the way you would kiss my head when you thought I was asleep. I miss the little touches, the little nudges and the way you made me feel complete. You were the part of me that I didn't know I was missing. Now it feels like someone has ripped it out after it had become a part of my being." The tears began to sting at her eyes and so she took in a deep breath. "I hope I'll do you proud," she choked quietly.

Mary kept her face turned upwards at the sky, but she closed her eyes as a single freezing gust of wind rushed past her face. It took her back to the moment that made her life fall into place. The moment he asked her to be his wife. As she opened her eyes slowly, the tears glistened stubbornly in the corners of her eyes, she tried with all of her might to keep them at bay. Swallowing relentlessly, as if she was trying to swallow an orange whole, she pictured his face on that cold winter's night. How do you truly let go of perfection? How do you cope with the thought that nothing like that would ever happen again? They stood outside in the blistering cold as the snow fell around them. Not feeling the bitter temperature, her body burning as Matthew stood just a few inches away. The way, as he spoke to her, he edged himself closer and closer to her body with a broad and unfaltering grin. The way his eyes lit up as he spoke. The way her body reacted instinctively to him as he got closer and closer. When she finally said she would marry him it felt like something had exploded within her like a raging fire. The kiss. The way he picked her up and twisted her around. Everything was so perfect, even though to others it would likely not seem to be. They spoke about Lavinia, America, Pamuk and of Carlisle. Their little moment had been perfect to them, as he had been perfect to her. It was a part of their story. It was what made them who they were.

"Forgive me," she whispered. "I'm sorry that I have not been there for your son. I know you would understand and tell me something positive and that I was being silly." Mary smiled through the tears that slowly broke free from her eyes. "And I suppose I am being silly in a way. But I can't help it. I feel lost without you. Cold. Stone-like even. You melted the bad things. You made everything better."

Mary ran her hand down her arm and took hold of the bracelet on her wrist. It had become almost like a subconscious ritual when she thought of him. "I have a feeling within me that makes me think that if I get over this grief, and by gosh I know I have to, that I'll be letting you go. I don't want to let you go, but I have to do this. You'll always be there in my heart because I think that you have become my heart. I know you will be in every thought, feeling and breath. You'll be in everything. I won't be letting you go really. They are not intertwined, and I know that, but I just can't shake that feeling. I know that you would never be disappointed in me, that you would push me until I was back on my feet and give me your backing even at the cost to yourself. I thought and felt, and still do, that I just can't do this without you. I know now, although it's taken me long enough, that I have to do it for you. Otherwise, what is the point? What was the point in any of this?"

Mary felt an unbelievable level of guilt as she thought about him. Would she let him go? Letting him go terrified her, and she knew deep down that she had to move forward. It wasn't going to be easy, it wasn't, but she knew in her heart of hearts that it was for him. It made her sigh, her hand lifting to wipe away a tear that had moved its way to the tip of her nose. Dejectedly, she leant into the bench and twisted at the bracelet. "I feel so silly. I know you can't hear me. I just miss you, Matthew. I miss talking to you. I miss you being there when I've had a bad day. It feels like it's been the longest darkest day since you've left. Even when I was angry, you always made sure that you were there. You would break it down until you pulled out a smile. You were there, and now... you're not."

Mary sniffed and wiped the tears away from her face with the back of her hand. She closed her eyes and took in a steadying breath, exhaling in a long and drawn-out fashion. "I need to try with everything to be strong. I just can't carry on like this. I don't want to cry any longer. I'm going to do my best not to, no matter how hard. I won't let this take me over again. I will try. I will try for you."

* * *

Mrs Hughes was faced with the entrance to the hospital once more. The contrast between the daunting and menacing vision it was to her when she stood before it previously was huge. Now it symbolised something deeper to her. The arch was like a gateway to some semblance of heaven. It was like her whole world had flipped upside-down after walking through it. It was now welcoming, inviting, like the breach to a new world. If she went through those gates, at least for now, she could talk to Carson without much interference from people they knew well. Although she felt a fondness for the building, she knew she couldn't wait until she could have everything back to normal. To have Carson standing at the door, to have him sat behind his desk as he beavered away, to have him sit and talk to her in the evenings. Their future together was still undecided in detail, but at the same time, there was an exciting prospect that was waiting to unfold. They could create something together.

There were things that she needed to sort for the party tomorrow, so as painful as it was going to be to her, she wasn't going to stay long. If she had her way she would stay by his side for every moment of every hour. The presence of him was enough to keep her full of love, of warmth and of anything else she thought she might need. Mrs Hughes smiled, her mouth moving upwards as if it were reaching towards the sky. It still shocked her that it had happened at all. It was if she had been in a wonderful dream. She was so used to things not going her way that she couldn't let it sink in properly. There was still the smallest niggle of doubt. That was her though, and she knew that it would go away as the days passed. She was just used to having her guard up.

As Mrs Hughes headed towards the door she could hear something that made her stop in her tracks. The air was quite still, aside from a stray breeze now and then, so it was easy to hear the faint sniffling nearby. It sounded like someone was crying. Mrs Hughes had spent many years around young women and men, and she could hear it and could tell right away that it was a young woman. Often, they just wanted someone to talk to, and Mrs Hughes wanted to go in and see Mr Carson, but that protective side of her couldn't help itself. As her friends had shown her over the past few days, she knew that having a friendly ear could make all the difference. Maybe she needed help? As much as she wanted to go and talk to Carson, to be by his side, she knew that she just needed to check.

Quietly, she poked her head around the corner to see where the noise was coming from. Sat on the bench, bathed in a faint orange glow from the light from a nearby window was Lady Mary. As she squinted slightly, she could see that the younger woman was leaning back into the bench looking lost but determined. Her breathing was laboured, like she was trying to balance herself and reign in her emotions.

"I need to try with everything to be strong. I just can't carry on like this. I don't want to cry any longer. I'm going to do my best not to, no matter how hard. I won't let this take me over again. I will try. I will try for you."

It sounded like she was talking to Matthew, and that made her feel sorry for Lady Mary. The whole attitude towards the younger woman was a little different now. Maybe it was more the fact that Mrs Hughes' life had changed, and therefore so had her outlook? All she knew was that the poor woman was grieving. When they had found out what had happened, she didn't think there had been a single person that hadn't been saddened by it. He had been such a genuine man.

At first, Mrs Hughes had heavily blamed Lady Mary for what had happened to Carson. Now that he was better, now that they had told each other how they had felt, she could tell that the deep dislike and blame towards her had lifted. What she knew was that if she had lost Carson, then she would be in the same position as her. In grief. It was hard enough to feel what she did when he was unconscious.

Yes, the feelings towards Lady Mary had changed somewhat now that the circumstances were different. She was also a young woman that Carson held dear, and she thought that maybe it was time to offer out an olive branch. Mary had told her how sorry she was, and she knew that she had meant it by the conviction behind her eyes. They would likely never see eye to eye fully because Mrs Hughes did sometimes wonder if Lady Mary manipulated Carson's loyalty for her benefit. But as she was someone important to him, she knew that there needed to be a better relationship between them. There had been times, especially over recent days, where she had seen something there that she recognised as being a quality that Carson would admire. If Lady Mary hadn't done what she had, would the relationship between herself and Carson developed further? That was another factor. Was she happy that it had happened in a way? She daren't delve into that any further through fear of the result.

Mrs Hughes exhaled, took a firm grip on her bag and took a few quiet steps until she was level with the bench. "Are you ok, Lady Mary?" The voice that came out was soft. It likely mirrored how sad she felt at seeing the young woman so upset.

When Mary heard the sound of her voice, she jumped, shocked by the sudden break in silence. "Oh," she gasped. "Mrs Hughes. I didn't hear you coming." Quickly, she wiped at her face again and tried to compose herself. "Carson will be happy to see you," she said in a friendly tone, avoiding direct eye contact with the older woman.

"I hope so, My Lady. I'm terribly sorry that I gave you a scare." Mrs Hughes smiled awkwardly, watching as Mary looked down at her hands. "I was just walking inside when I heard something that sounded like crying. I thought I would come and see if whoever it was was ok."

Mary's lips flattened out into an awkward smile, and she lifted her gaze to meet the other woman. "That's the question, isn't it?"

Mrs Hughes didn't quite understand what her comment was directed at. It was likely more a comment to herself it seemed "Is it ok if I take a seat, My Lady?" Mrs Hughes said reluctantly, looking at the open space next to where Mary was seated.

Mary's head tilted in confusion. That was not what she was expecting. Giving Mrs Hughes' face a more detailed look, she could see that her eyes were wide, her face was soft, and it comforted Mary for a second. Although it also seemed like it was a look of sympathy. Did she feel sorry for her? Mary found herself nodding reluctantly. She watched carefully as Mrs Hughes took a seat, trying to gauge what was happening. Mary had been the one that had instigated any recent contact, and it felt odd to be on the other end of it. It was all a very unlikely distraction from her feelings, and so she turned ever so slightly so she was facing more in Mrs Hughes' direction. Maybe this was the moment that could move their relationship in a better direction? They both meant something to Carson, and Mary knew that they needed a new layer to whatever relationship they had.

Mrs Hughes didn't say anything right away, and she could feel the gaze of Mary boring into the side of her head. They both must feel awkward because it might have been the first time since that night in Carson's hospital room that they had said more than just idle chatter to each other. Ignoring the intense feeling of being watched, she turned her gaze to the stars. They were glistening brightly as there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was lovely being in the countryside because you could see the lights so much clearer than if you were in a city. It was refreshing to be outside. Since her last moment where she had sat outside on a bench, she felt so much better. She felt freer and lighter. "I am so very sorry about Mr Crawley, My Lady. He was a wonderful man. Kind and fair. Charming. Friendly. Dedicated."

Mary hadn't expected that either. The sound of his name made her twitch. Mary leant back into the bench and lifted her eyes to the sky so could look at that star again. That was Matthew's star now and she would find out what it was called. "Yes, he was."

Mrs Hughes cautiously side-eyed Mary, who she could see was now also looking up at the sky. "I remember saying to Anna when she was going through that horrible time with Mr Bates that a broken heart can be as painful as a broken limb. I believe that to be the truth. Losing someone you love so dearly would be as catastrophic as losing all of your limbs."

The pause between them was long. Mrs Hughes waited patiently, not wanting to press any further. Maybe it hadn't been her place to say anything at all? but she had wanted to say something. In her left ear, she could hear Mary's breath hitching as she tried to keep herself in control. Hearing that, she knew that she had to say something else to break the tension and thoughts she must be thinking. "This world is cruel, but there are ways to get through it. I know that you have a lot of people in your life that care very deeply for you, My Lady. Many people. Not even immediate family. You have friends that care for you and will do whatever it takes to get you through this. Use them whenever you need."

"I know," Mary exhaled. "And I know you mean Carson."

Mrs Hughes smiled. "I do. But not just him, no. He does care very deeply for you though. I've known him for a long time, not as long as you have, but enough to know that as a fact."

"Yes, he does." Mary forced a smile. The thought of Carson made her think about the relationship that was unfolding between him and Mrs Hughes.

Mrs Hughes had an issue with how casual Mary was to agree about how much Carson cared for her. It was this sort of behaviour that made her think that Mary used it to her advantage. But as it stood at that moment, it didn't mean much as it was just a comment. It was still enough to make the thought cross her mind though.

Mary knew that she had to offer something to Mrs Hughes. As a person in her position, she didn't have to offer anyone anything. This was deeper than that though, and as pieces in Carson's life, they had to play their part like pawns in a chess game. "I know you mean well, Mrs Hughes, and I appreciate you stopping to see if I was quite well."

"That's ok, My Lady." Mrs Hughes smiled and placed her handbag on her lap so she could lean on it.

Mary moved her eyes to the other woman. "I do know you're doing it for much more than just a simple check-in though. You're doing it for the benefit of someone else. I don't mind that, not at all, and I appreciate you taking the time to sit with me."

Mrs Hughes felt her nostrils flare. What did she mean? It was just a simple gesture. "I don't understand, My Lady?" Now was not the time to get annoyed. They were different, very different in fact. They saw things from completely different perspectives.

Mary smiled. It didn't seem to be a smile of contempt, annoyance or anything else. It was just a plain smile. Mrs Hughes couldn't read what it meant, so she sat and waited.

"You're doing this for Carson, Mrs Hughes." Mary's voice was firm but soft. There was no malice there.

Mrs Hughes was a little taken aback. As she thought about it momentarily, she recalled a few things that had been said to her that had made her wonder. This was almost a little too direct and accurate. "No-"

"Mrs Hughes," Mary interrupted. "You do not need to lie or defend yourself to me. Please give me the chance to tell you something that will put you at ease."

Mrs Hughes' eyes were wide. She did not know what to say or what to do, so she sat silent and nodded her head. It took a lot to keep Elsie Hughes from her words.

"I'm not sure how well you know my character as a person and not just someone that you serve. I watch people. I see people. I can read people, and have done for many years, to often use that in my favour. I will not deny that. In the world I live in, and the role I have been playing, it's what I have had to do. Over the past week, I have seen things from you that has given me a reason to believe that you and Carson have more to you than just people that work together. You came to him night after night to make sure that he was ok. You sat by his side. When he finally came to he called out your name. I've seen the way you are around him, in an environment that is neutral from your positions in the home. I stumbled upon something the other night and I saw the way he held your face."

Mrs Hughes felt her stomach knot. It felt like she was about to get into some sort of trouble. Of course, she knew that she would defend Carson if she had to. If this was the start of the unravelling of their jobs, then she would make sure that Carson stayed in his.

"Don't look so scared, Mrs Hughes. I told you that I was going to tell you something that would make you feel at ease."

That still didn't make Mrs Hughes feel better. Lady Mary's version of putting someone at ease could be very different from hers.

"I know love, Mrs Hughes. I've had it and lost it. I know that you both love each other very much. Do not fear a reaction from me, Mrs Hughes. I have to admit to you, that I have already spoken to Carson about this. I told him that if this is what he wants then I am fine with it. I want to offer and extend that sentiment to you. I accept your relationship. In fact, I endorse it. I know that I don't have to permit you because love isn't something that needs it. I just want you to know that if anything were to arise from this then I would back your corner. I want Carson to have someone that he can love and cherish, and to have someone that feels the same towards him. I want him to have the world and something to call his own. He deserves it. He deserves to have something other than his job."

Mrs Hughes could feel her mouth sitting open. She felt shocked. This was most certainly not how she thought this interaction was going to go. It was nice to hear, it was. Lady Mary's opinion was one that Carson cherished, and she knew that having her on their side was a blessing. Mrs Hughes knew that Lady Mary rarely didn't get her way. "Oh, My Lady-"

"We have never seen eye to eye, Mrs Hughes, not truly. I have often wondered if you liked me. It's strange I know, and I shouldn't care if you do as it's the job that I must ensure that you do. I suppose, over the past few days, I have wondered it more. There is a huge new perspective behind my eyes you could say. We have lived different lives, walked different paths and seen the world through different eyes. I know that you likely think that the relationship between Carson and I as unusual. I'm sure you think that there is something there that means I take advantage of him. I want to change any perceptions you may have about me. I am a person, Mrs Hughes. I want you to know more than what you may think of me already. I am on your side. I am on Carson's side."

Mary wrapped the shawl as tightly as she could around her, the temperature dropping as the moments moved on. "I am fond of him. There aren't many people who I care for like I do him. I know it's not proper to speak about, but sometimes these things just need saying. He always knows what to say when I need it. He is always there. Without him, I wouldn't be here right now in fact. I know you blame me for the fact he was injured, and I can only apologise. I didn't want that. I would never ever want that. I have lost one man that I care for, and I nearly lost another."

"It's ok, My Lady. Really." Mrs Hughes' could feel how authentic the words were, and she felt the respect towards the other woman shift. It was true that Mrs Hughes may not know Mary as a person. It was clear that there was much more to her than she had thought. Maybe she should give her more of a chance? The olive branch was being set from both sides it seemed.

"I know you blame me for what happened, and you are correct. I know that you are something special in his life, and so I feel that we must do better at being friends. If you make Carson as happy as I think you do, then I must extend my friendship to you. If not for you, then for Carson. You may not even want it, and I don't blame you. I hope you do not think of me as intruding. I hope you do not think that I am crossing a line. Which is ironic really, considering our places in this world. I just want you to know that I fully support and back your corner. Carson has told me that you have much to discuss, and of course, you do, it's unchartered land for you both. But please, Mrs Hughes, allow me to tell you that I will stand with you if you need me to. I have already said to Carson that I can talk to his Lordship to make sure that it is all as smooth as possible. Carson being Carson has said that he wants to do it himself."

Mrs Hughes felt an enormous rush of emotion. It was a nice thing that she was saying to her, and it was completely unexpected. Not being able to stop herself, she reached out to place her hand on Mary's arm. "Your words mean a great deal, My Lady. They really do."

Mary looked down at Mrs Hughes' hand and let the right side of her mouth lift. "As I said. We haven't always seen eye to eye, but I hope we can be better. I hope we can understand each other more. I owe that man my life. He doesn't want to accept the debt in which I have to him, because he is a man of propriety and he doesn't like to deviate from that. But I am in his debt. I also can't do without him."

"Yes, My Lady. I think we can and should do better. I respect and appreciate what it is that you are saying. I really do. Do not think me impertinent for saying, but it's on a level as a woman to woman and not an employee to employer." Mrs Hughes tried to give Mary a reassuring smile.

"I wouldn't think it impertinent. I think it as a level of honesty. And in situations like this, that's the most we can ask for." Mary sighed and turned her attention to the sky, which was now as dark as ever. "I know if the Dowager was listening she would be mortified that we were entertaining a conversation as a woman on woman, rather than you being the head housekeeper and me who you serve. You are not working. I am not waiting or expecting anything. I just have a different perspective on things right now. I need to concentrate on things that will help me and move me forward. I don't want to cry any longer. I want to live my life for Matthew. Carson has and will be pivotal in that, and so I want him to be happy. Can you promise me something, woman to woman?"

"I'll certainly try, My Lady." Mrs Hughes tilted her head as she waited for the question.

"Don't break his heart. I know first hand the devastation of a broken heart. Although mine is mixed with grief, I can tell you that I would never wish that upon my enemy. I do feel that you will both do well by each other though. I don't want to see him hurt. I know he loves you. I know he will always love you, and he has probably loved you for a long time before now. Just promise me that you won't break his heart. It changes a person, it truly does, and I don't ever want him to change. I don't think he could handle it and I'm not sure if I could either."

Mrs Hughes sucked in a mouthful of air. Her first reaction was one of anger. Lady Mary did not know her as a person, just like the other way around apparently. But then she rationalised it and realised that Mary was just looking out for Carson. Mrs Hughes also tried not to think about the fact that some of the key facets for Mary's reasonings were ones for her own gain. It was because she needed him. No, she had to let it lie, even though her instincts were to back Carson's corner too. In a way, she supposed, Mary's state also correlated to Carson's. It was unusual, but it worked for them. At this moment, Mrs Hughes had to keep her mind on the idea at hand, and that was to extend the olive branch. "Oh, I promise, My Lady. I have no intentions of going anywhere." She paused for a moment. As they were both talking about honesty, and given the fact that Mary had offered a huge olive branch, she thought she would try and give her the truth. "I have loved him for a very long time too, My Lady. Too long in fact. This whole situation has made us realise that. We have been silly not to see it sooner."

"Romance and love are difficult. Sometimes it's the difficult situations that make love known. So," Mary paused. "Do you think we could be friends?"

Mrs Hughes smiled again. "Oh, I say that it should be easier from now on."

Mary smiled back before letting a shiver take over her body. She should go inside and get some rest, but it was so beautiful outside. She knew that the conversation with Mrs Hughes was going to give her some more thoughts to go over.

"Let's get you inside, Lady Mary, it's getting rather chilly." Mrs Hughes got to her feet.

"Not just yet. But please, go ahead. Carson will be thrilled to see you."

Mrs Hughes nodded. "Lady Mary, if you ever need anything, you know that we will both do what we can to help. As will many others."

"I know, Mrs Hughes. Thank you. Now, don't let me keep you. Thank you again for stopping to look in on me." Mary twisted so she was facing forward completely.

"Are you sure you will be ok, Lady Mary?" Mrs Hughes felt a little uneasy at leaving her, especially considering what she had witnessed when she had arrived. The woman was still in an immense amount of pain. It did seem at the same time that she was trying to push herself forward.

"I will be. It will take time, but I will. I have to. I have things that I must do."

They both glanced at each other before Mary returned her eyes to the sky. Mrs Hughes nodded and turned herself towards the hospital. Well, she hadn't expected that.

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**And I hadn't expected that either! It just naturally emerged after I was keymashing out some dialogue :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter. **


	32. Chapter 32

**This will be the last chapter before my holiday. I hope you enjoy it :)**

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Every step that Mrs Hughes took up those stairs, she came up with a question or scenario in her head that made her stomach ball itself up into a knot. It was clear that she was able to navigate the hospital without much real thought because her mind was so distracted. The temperature had changed quite drastically from the cool night air to the fiery warmth of the hospital. That warmth was not the reason for her flushed cheeks, however.

Mrs Hughes was used to being rational. Of course, she knew that at times she let her emotions lead, and that often got her into difficult situations. As a woman, she was able to intricately decipher, most of the time, between all of the emotions that flooded her body. At that moment, ascending the stairs to the love of her life, she could feel so many that it felt a little overwhelming. There was excitement, of course. That was the forerunner. Then there was happiness, intrigue, anxiety and a tiny slither of worry. The conversation she had just had with Mary had left those feelings all in a heightened state. The blindsided nature of the conversation, and how she hadn't expected it had meant that she hadn't been able to produce barriers and her rational brain. It had been a reassuring conversation. The sentiment behind it was warm. Knowing that the other key woman in Carson's life understood and backed them made her incredibly hopeful. It did add to the cascade of questions in her mind though. There was so much that she needed to delve into with him and in her mind. Would they need Lady Mary to fight their battle? Would things become difficult for them? Were they going to be able to continue like normal in terms of work? When would they inform them of what was going on? Those were the questions that made her worry. Mrs Hughes knew that having Carson at her side in her personal life would be enough if it had to, but she knew that the core to their whole relationship had begun in the workplace. They worked well together, they understood each other and in her mind them being what they were could increase that bond. Mrs Hughes wasn't stupid, she knew that one of the main worries that would come from the home would be if things didn't work between them. Loyalty would shift. Bitterness could rise. Mrs Hughes would never let that happen though. Ever.

"Stop being silly," she muttered to herself, taking another step. There was no place in her brain to think of how it was going to go wrong. It wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen. It was just her rationalising the house perspective she knew, but it seemed to hang over them like a shadow. A faint one. The shadow wasn't coming from them, but the potential perspective of others like they were blocking their light. There were too many people involved already. Mrs Hughes liked her business to be her business.

As she neared the top of the stairs she shifted to Carson. In just a few strides she was going to be in his presence and this made her feel ever so giddy. There was a current streaming through her body that she couldn't control. It was electric. It made all of the hairs on her arms stand on end. Adrenaline mixed with a powerful sense of longing was the best way to describe it. The desire to touch him, feel his hand on her face, to have him close. Mrs Hughes wanted to show him love. In all of her years previous, she had never felt in so little control of herself. It wasn't lustful, it was just a freshly rekindled ache and desire for him. It was affection. It was powerful. She wanted to show him that she cared and loved him. She just wanted to touch him. In her mind, she had not been able to understand over the years, how couples were so handsy. Not handsy in an improper way, they just always seemed to give each other gentle touches, a reassuring presence and closeness. Lord and Lady Grantham had been very much a forefront in that area. Now it seemed that Mrs Hughes could understand it. She wanted it. She craved it.

The conversation with Mary had also made her think further about the logistics of their relationship. Mrs Hughes knew that when they were working and in the eyes of others, they would not be able to be that way as it wasn't proper. It had been such a long time since she had been close to having a beau. When she was younger things had been a bit more carefree. If she had found someone she wouldn't be in service, so the stakes were a little less. They were older. They needed to talk about what they were going to be. How they were going to do it. Now she had built up her job, her level of respect, her name and she was not ready to let that go. Of course, if she had to, and it meant it was between the pair of them as to who kept their job, she wouldn't hesitate to step aside. For him. Always for him. The thought made her exhale and shake her head.

Then her mind started rattling through the expectations on how their next round of contact was going to go. Would he get up and hug her? Would he kiss her on the cheek? Would he reach out to touch her? How were they going to greet now? What would he say? What would they speak about? The anticipation built in her chest and she slowed her pace to almost nothing. Of course, she was over-thinking it all and she knew, as soon as they started talking, that they would fall into their natural rhythm. Time would change this rhythm. No running before they could walk.

As she reached the threshold, she took in a deep breath and peered around the corner. She did enjoy watching him when he was on his own. Carson sat under the light of the lamp by his bed with a book in his hand. After a moment he paused and closed the book. It rested on his lap, and he placed both of his hands on top of it. Lifting his head as if he could hear something, he turned his attention to the window. The expression on his face changed. The furrow of his brows from the concentration he had on the book disappeared. The whole of his face grew soft. Then he smiled. It was just a small smile that gently lifted the edges of his mouth. Whatever he was thinking about was lifting him. Then she could see him physically release a sigh, the rigidity to his posture escaped, and he leant into his pillows. Mrs Hughes followed suit and sighed. The burning in her that had been ignited after their conversation continued. They had been near each other for years, and she had been able to push away that desire. That desire had been let free, years of wanting to touch him and be close, all flooding her body like blood itself. It made her physically ache. It was everywhere.

It took her a moment to break herself away from the gaze of admiration that she was giving him. When she did she felt content, at ease, as if just seeing him had pushed the worries aside. What did it matter if the family didn't want this relationship to happen? Mrs Hughes was happy to have him and would give up whatever it took. They would find a way if they had to. Slowly, she eased herself into the room and walked towards the bed.

"Oh, Mrs Hughes," he said, his eyes breaking his gaze from the window. It was as if his whole face had lit up like a candle, and she couldn't help but smile in return.

Mrs Hughes felt her heart pound in her chest, and she thought to herself that Carson did not smile enough. The job he did, the way he was so serious about it, and his usual demeanour meant that he spent most of the time with a stern expression on his face. When he did smile, he looked so soft and caring. There was a warm glint in his eyes and plumpness to his cheeks.

As she walked closer, she could feel herself hesitating. Should she kiss him on the cheek? Hug him? Touch him? The world, and especially their world, was confined to certain ways in which they had to act. A lot of that didn't seem natural. Why have these feelings and desires if you weren't to act on them? She remembered her life growing up was far more freer when it came to expression. It burnt over every inch of her to act on them so she could show him what he meant, but she didn't know how to act around him yet. They were more than friends now, but she didn't want to cross a line that had yet to be drawn. When she moved to where the chair was, she looked up and she half expected him to get up and hug her. She wasn't sure where that notion had come from. When he didn't, her heart dropped a fraction, but it was enough for her to notice.

Carson tracked her with his eyes as she took her seat next to the bed. "What a lovely surprise," he said with a genuine tone to his voice. The look she gave him was wide with expectation, but when she looked for a reaction he could see a tinge of disappointment behind her eyes. Had she expected him to reach out to her? This was all so new to him, and although he desperately wanted to reach out to her, he knew that it might not seem proper just yet. Even though he had the night before, that was in a fit of heightened emotion. They had yet to set a precedent to their behaviours and relationship as a whole. Carson would always be respectful, it was just the type of man that he was. These things would fall into place over time. They were used to acting and being in a certain way. It had been years of propriety, social construct and habit that would take time to wear away.

"Well, I thought I would come down to see you before you came home. Check to see if there was anything that you needed. I wanted to make sure that you were well enough to be back. I didn't want you to come back too soon if it wasn't time. I also didn't want you to feel pressured into coming home before you were well in yourself to be there. I know what you're like."

"Oh, no. I'm looking forward to coming back. I feel well. I feel very well in fact." The instinct he had to look out for her kicked in, and he worked his way into her eyes to see how her day had been. Slowly he moved his tired eyes from side to side to look for any tells. In times like the one they were in, and how they had moved forward, he thought that she would be honest with him. That is what people who loved each other did. In comparison to the last time he saw her she looked much better. The skin on her cheeks had colour to it, her hair was tight and her eyes sparkled under the dim light of the bedside table lamp. There was still something slightly amiss, but it was nominal in comparison to the day previous. She looked freer and happier. She seemed solid. Absentmindedly, he moved his fingers over the surface of the book that his hands were resting on. The change in temperature beneath his fingers as they moved from their warm resting spot made him take notice of the book in his presence. "Thank you for giving me the book from Lady Mary, by the way," he said as he placed it back onto the table at the side of his bed. "It's very good."

Mrs Hughes had noted his probing eyes, the way they moved from side to side and searched her eyes for clues. To put his mind at ease, and make him feel satisfied that she was doing well, she smiled and began undoing her coat. The room was very warm. "I saw you had it in your hand when I arrived. You looked quite deep in thought though. I hope nothing is troubling you?" Standing quickly she placed her coat on the back of the chair because she couldn't see a coat rack.

Carson couldn't help but watch her with admiration. Not for anything in particular, just for being who she was. She was elegant, beautiful, charming, warm, kind and soft. It made his mouth involuntarily shift into a broad grin. At that moment he felt like one of the luckiest men in the world. As she sat down he stuck his arm out and took her hand. It was unexpected like he had been driven to do it without much in terms of thought. He wanted to scold himself, but then when she squeezed it back he couldn't help but smile. Carson liked to do things properly, of course, he did, and he was a man of respect. But it felt like he was being driven by something so pure and raw that he wanted to throw propriety out of the window. He would never of course because it was etched into his bones. "No, nothing is troubling me. It's far from that. I was thinking about you, actually." His words made her squeeze his hand again. It was worth it for just that.

"About me?" Mrs Hughes said shyly, the warmth in her cheeks returning even though she had fewer layers on without her coat. When she had sat down she felt like she was too far away, so she moved the chair closer without letting go of his hand. That proved a challenge in itself, but having him holding her hand made her feel so content that she dared not part with it. Instinctively she reached out and placed her other hand on top of his. Without hesitation, she began to run her thumb over the top.

"Yes, Mrs Hughes-"

"Elsie," she interrupted softly, giving him a subtle nod as if to permit him. "It's just us here, Charlie. It's just us." Mrs Hughes gave him a reassuring smile. Carson's grip increased in intensity.

The beating of Carson's heart increased, and it felt like someone was hitting his heart with a hammer. It was if the way she looked at him made everything inside of him come alive. How did he get so lucky? How did he not move forward with this sooner? What had they missed because of their ignorance? So natural and beautiful. So wonderful. She was his Elsie. Some things needed to be said. These were the little touches that were going to change their dynamic when not in their usual roles. Would their work become a facade? Would their life together become their real world and their jobs just something else? Carson didn't think so because his work had always been his life. She was it now though. The dynamics in his heart and mind were changing. It was like being reawakened for a second chance at life. It made him wonder, but at the same time, it made him feel so happy that he might burst at the seams. "Elsie," he acknowledged in a whispered tone. "I hope you don't mind that I took your hand?"

The initial reaction from Mrs Hughes was one of shock. What a silly question to ask. It made her laugh though because that was so very Carson. "Oh, no. Not at all you silly man," she chuckled. The way he was staring at her so intently made her feel a little embarrassed, and so she broke his gaze to compose herself by looking at the window. The expression on her face was neutral apart from the grin on her lips. Returning her eyes to his, she spoke with as much conviction as she could. "You can take my hand whenever you want. Whenever you need."

Carson felt his nostrils flare as he felt the happiness expand within him to the point that he thought he might cry. Of course, he wouldn't, but he could feel it wrestling within him. Carson had never been able to react well to the emotional feelings that produced tears. It just wasn't him enough to be able to direct them into anything of usefulness. How could one woman make him feel so much? For years he had been so stoic and level because that's what he needed to be. It had never occurred to him that he was missing out on so much. There was so much in life that he had left to discover with Mrs Hughes by his side. Over the years he had learned to control himself when faced with so many different situations. His life dictated it in almost every aspect. It was like he was an emotional pariah, he had missed out on so many things. Of course, he didn't regret it, he had enjoyed where his life had taken him, but now he realised that there was so much he could do now. Everything flooded with warmth as if he had burning lava coursing through his veins. It was all for her. He felt like the luckiest man in the entire world. Before he spoke he had to reign it in. It didn't take long, he was used to having to push things down in the blink of an eye. "I was just thinking about how much I was looking forward to seeing you again."

"Oh," she said sheepishly, moving her focus from his eyes to her hands. Her cheeks burnt. She knew if her hand was free from his it would likely be shaking. He kept her steady like he always did. "I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't been thinking about you all day," she grinned, returning her eyes to his.

"Well then," he said. "It seems we have both had things on our minds today then." Carson couldn't help but smile. There seemed to be a sledgehammer beating in the place that his heart was. Something surged within him like electricity. What more could a man need than to know that he had been the specific thought of the woman he cared for? "Have you had a good day?"

"I have actually. Things are relatively quiet at the moment. You know how it is when the family aren't entertaining. They're all very quiet. I think they'll be happy when you're both at home. It'll bring back some normalcy to the house. Everyone will be happy to see you stood in your rightful place." Mrs Hughes couldn't help but resort to talking about what they were both used to. It was a habit. It was what they were familiar and comfortable with. The Abbey was something they had in common at the moment.

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Carson smirked. "They have probably been thankful for the reprieve!"

Mrs Hughes raised her eyebrows with mock annoyance. "I'm not giving them an easy ride you know. There are very high standards to maintain. Don't think for a second I've been letting them get away with murder in your absence." The voice she expelled was not one of annoyance, but instead, it was light-hearted.

Carson's eyebrows raised. "Oh, don't think I'm questioning your work ethic. I just meant that-"

"They think you're a bit of a curmudgeon sometimes?" she retorted with a pointed smirk.

Carson let out a hearty laugh, his deep voice rolling in an evenly spaced boom. "I wouldn't have put it quite like that. But yes."

Mrs Hughes followed suit and laughed too. Then she stopped and looked him straight in the eye. "I don't think you know your worth, Charlie. A lot of people care about you. You've been missed, very much." Mrs Hughes knew that it was coming from her more than anyone, but it was true, the house seemed lost without him. There were a few people that had commented on how they missed him being around. It wasn't a lie or to boost his confidence. It was the truth. He was direct, he was strict, he was meticulous when it came to his job. Not only that, but he was fair, strong, and kind to most. The man had a presence about him, he could work a room, he was like a friendly giant who had the whole family under his protection. Mrs Hughes could do the work, but she was no Charlie Carson.

Most of their eye contact had been fleeting. In moments where it lingered one of them looked away. It was either out of embarrassment or because they found that they couldn't process how they made each other feel. Then, they both locked eyes and kept them there. Mrs Hughes felt like she was standing on a cloud that was destined for the highest mountain. It made everything begin to stir inside of her like a stew being mixed stubbornly by Mrs Patmore. Seeing him sat there looking so well, so happy and content made her suddenly feel very emotional. Only a few days before she thought that she was going to lose him, thought she was never going to be able to tell him how she felt. The image of him passed out in the great hall, his head covered in thick and deep crimson blood, and his skin dark from bruising. Looking at him ahead of her now looking so proud and happy made her realise how truly thankful she was in having him in her life. The hours spent worrying, fretting, and the tears she had cried. It had all be a bit much, but it had all been worth it. Everything stewed together until it had nowhere else to go. It overwhelmed her and she felt the tears manifest in the corners of her eyes like unwanted visitors. It was uncharacteristic of her, but then everything that she had been in the days before had been uncharacteristic. Mrs Hughes was normally well mannered with her emotions. Everything was falling into place, and this spurred the tears on with an intense ferocity. Like rain on a summers day, the cool tears started to fall down her warm cheeks. "Oh, Charlie," she said as she tried to fight the petulant watery visitors. "I'm so glad you're well." She then leant forward, moved her hand from the top of his, and kissed him there before resting her forehead on it. She felt embarrassed, but she didn't know what else to do. Just having even a fraction of his skin against her own was enough to begin to soothe her.

Carson felt a stray tear fall onto his hand and he couldn't help but react by scrunching his face up with confusion. Against his hand, he could feel the tremble of her face as she tried to push whatever was driving her emotion away. The periodic sniffs told him that she was not being successful. It made the pit of his stomach fall away. Seeing someone that you love in pain was one of the worst feelings in the world. You wanted to take it away, absorb it into yourself at the cost of your well being. What he wanted to do was scoop her up into his arms and protect her from whatever she was feeling. He wanted to envelop her until it all went away. "Elsie," he whispered sadly as he brought up his hand to rest on her shoulder. It was a far cry from what he wanted to do.

Mrs Hughes reacted by lifting herself upwards and away from his touch. "Oh, I'm sorry. Don't mind me," she mumbled, leaning to fish in her bag to find a handkerchief. Wanting to take control of herself, she rolled her eyes up at the ceiling and blinked aggressively to try and dispel any more unwanted visitors from her eyes. She could see a cobweb in the corner of the room. The days had whittled away her well-maintained walls. Like a damn with holes, it seeped water at quite an alarming rate. "I just let myself run away for a moment."

Carson instinctively moved to the side, shuffling his body so that there was a small space at his side that was closest to her. "Elsie," he said quietly, his voice hardly audible as he peered at her through worried eyes. What was the closest he was going to get to picking her up in his arms and running her away from the pain? What was the closest he was going to get to taking it from her and giving it to himself to help her? They could talk and he could let her know that he was there for her.

Using the handkerchief she dabbed at her eyes. This was not what she had wanted him to see. The effect that he was having on her was powerful. It was a genuine feeling of being overwhelmed by love. That was mixed in with the thankfulness that he was well. Steadying herself she exhaled slowly, letting everything out of her. "I'm fine," she pushed. "Honestly."

Carson had noticed that something hadn't been quite right just those few moments earlier when he had looked into her eyes. It was only small, but it had been enough to catch fire and turn into a raging bushfire. "Just humour me," he said quietly, patting the space next to him.

Mrs Hughes had raised his eyebrows at his suggestion. "Are you asking me to get onto the bed...with you?"

Carson then momentarily seemed to be flummoxed by the proposition. The words jolting himself back into the room and back into his normal way of thinking. What had he offered? It had been misconstrued. It was not his intentions. "Oh," he said quite sharply. "No, no. It was improper. I apologise."

"Charlie," she cooed, wiping away a rogue tear that had moved down her cheek. "What is it?"

"There was no ill intent. I would never, and I know you know that. I just wanted to talk to you," he paused to swallow down the shame he suddenly felt. "I just wanted to say something...I just wanted to offer some sort of comfort." The left side of his face moved upwards as he tried to justify himself with a wonky smile. What had he been thinking? He moved his eyes up to the ceiling to avert any gaze he suspected she was giving him. Subconsciously he would only offer such a thing if he thought that there were no people around to deem it to be something improper. It had only taken him a day or so to figure out the schedules of the nurses, and the routines that they worked to. Carson always watched people, especially in environments that he was not the playmaker of. He knew that nobody would be around. He just wanted to comfort her. Who was this new person that he was becoming? First, he took her hand and then he asked her to sit next to him on his bed.

Mrs Hughes could see that he was worried. It was not her intentions to make it so, and she felt terrible that she had put a slide on the evening. Quietly she got to her feet and sat down at his side, keeping one of her feet on the ground, and the other one as close as she could without being uncomfortable. Her shoulder pushed against his and she could feel how warm he was. Butterflies erupted like demons in her chest. They were shoulder to shoulder. It was not that she was doing it to make him feel better for his faux pas. There was a heightened sense of intrigue on what the comfort was going to be. On the other end, she desperately wanted to be comforted by him, even if it was just sitting by his side.

Carson became very aware of her when she sat next to him. There was a warmth emanating out of her shoulder that was pushing into him. What had he done? The curve of his eyebrows was that of a mountain. They were pointing high into the sky as if reaching for the heavens. It dawned on him however that maybe she wanted the comfort that he had so sheepishly proposed? It wasn't proper. It was far from proper, and yet she had obliged without any obligation expressed through his own words and actions. It was of her own free will. Was it the blow to the head? Was it the fact that he cared for her so much that he was finding it difficult to keep himself behind that well-etched line? He wanted to care for her. Provide for her. Keep her safe. Carson was not stupid, he knew that when they returned to the house they would not be able to talk and act so freely. It was now as if their time was running out to iron out the expectations and thoughts. They needed to do and say things now that were going to be harder to talk about when they were back in their jobs.

"Tell me," he pleaded. "Tell me what's wrong. I don't want you to ever apologise for showing your emotion to me. We have spent too many years not doing just that, and where did it get us? I care for you. I care about you. I want you to be able to talk to me and tell me these things. I know it may seem out of turn, but I have a different perspective on things. I want to seize the day when it comes to you. We have let so much time go. I want to lift you when you're not yourself. My intentions extend as far into the future as possible, as long as I have breath in my body. We've been dancing around this for too long, Elsie, and we don't have time on our hands. Carson as a Butler is different from Carson as a friend and more. Only slightly I might add," he grinned. "And you know we have often spoken quite frankly to each other. If this were you, you'd get it out of me," he smiled although she wasn't looking at him. She nearly always got it out of him. He couldn't help himself.

The tone of his voice soothed her. It was like the sound of a tide muddled in with the rattling and humming of a car engine. It vibrated into her through their touching arms. In reality, what she wanted was for him to take his arm and wrap it around her. Then, with him close, she could lay her head against his chest and hear the beating of his heart. Having him so close to her would soothe any ailment she could imagine. It wasn't going to happen, but she imagined it for just a moment before he shifted his weight, bringing her back to the room. Over the years they had developed that rapport that meant that they could talk quite frankly, as he had just said. It just seemed a bit silly of her to be so emotional when he was doing just fine. If it were the other way around she would hang over his shoulder until he gave in and admitted defeat. It was the direction that they were going in. "Honestly, Charlie. I just got a little overwhelmed. It's been hard since you've been gone. The running of the house has been fine. I just spent so much time worrying about you. I was terrified that I was going to lose you. That mixed in with how happy I am that you're here, that you're alive and that we have been able to realise our feelings. It just got a bit much. Don't think me weak or silly-"

Carson scoffed. "I would never think that of you. You are nothing of the sort. You're a fierce woman, Mrs H- Elsie," he corrected. "You are one of the strongest characters I know. Are you well, really?" he probed again.

Mrs Hughes turned to look at him and smiled. "I'm fine. I am. I just can't believe my luck."

"It's not luck, Elsie. Anything but luck." Carson couldn't help but take her hand that had been sitting idly at her side.

Staring down at their encased hands, she couldn't help but place her other on top of his. Having both of her hands wrapped around his made her feel so happy. When they got back to normal she would miss just being able to do that. Would it get harder to control? Would it get harder to miss? Would she be able to ration herself? What would it be like when things went back to normal? "What are we going to do about all of this? I mean, we have to get it out in the open. We can't leave it for people to find out by chance. It would look like we were doing something that we are ashamed of. It would look like we were trying to hide something improper. I don't want to live in a shadow."

Carson gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I've been thinking about all of that, to be honest. It's hard not to when you've got so many spare hours in the day, which I might add is driving me bloody barmy. I don't want to rush us and our approach. These things, as they say, need to develop naturally. I know we've been slow-burning for an elongated period, but it is still our story that we are writing. We dictate the pace. We work on our terms, and whatever pace you feel comfortable with. I do think that we need to inform his Lord and Ladyship of our intentions as soon as we can." Carson paused for a minute to watch her face. "It's the right thing to do. It's the best thing to do. It's better to know the hurdles we face rather than waiting until we are already falling over them. Then if someone decides to make it their business, and I won't insinuate any names, then it will already be in the known world. Of course when we are working, when we are in the house and doing our roles we have to ensure that we are Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes. Our role is our role. It must not get in the way of the job and standards will not fall. Outside of that is our business. Do you agree?"

Mrs Hughes instantly began to nod her head. Of course, they needed to be stringent. If they could remain in the home together then they would never reduce themselves and let standards slip. It was not in either of their natures. It did make her wonder if they would ever have any time to be this free and open? To be themselves when they spent nearly all of their waking hours doing their job. Was this moment with her at his side something bittersweet as it would be some time before anything like it happened again? The word intentions became fixed in her mind. What were their intentions? What were they to become? "Charlie," she said with a wide-eyed expression. "What are our intentions?"

Carson didn't even need to think about it. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It's as simple as that. I will do the proper thing. When all this is over, when everything is back to normal, I will do the right thing. That is the intention that I will inform his Lord and Ladyship about."

Mrs Hughes knew exactly what he meant and she knew it was what she wanted. It was what she had wanted for a very long time. There was no need to talk about specifics in that area because that ball was in Carson's court. It was something that he would do properly. Knowing that his intentions were that would keep her satiated for eternity. There was not a single shred of doubt in her mind that when he did ask the question that her answer would be what they both wanted. Mrs Elsie Carson. It made her blush and smile. The tears she had let go from her eyes before were threatening and plotting their escape on happier terms. No more tears would be shed though. "Do you think that his Lord and Ladyship will accept that? It's not normal, is it? I'd like to be there when you do?"

"Well, it's not normal. A Butler isn't meant to be married, let alone to the woman that helps him run the home," he grumbled. "His Lordship is kind and generous in how he has things run, but at the same time he abides by propriety almost as closely as I. Even I have frowned upon this sort of things in other homes in the past, and it feels hypocritical." Carson could feel Mrs Hughes shift uncomfortably at his side, and her eyes looked down which he assumed was because it made her worry. "But please, Elsie," he said pulling her hand so she looked back at him. "Do not mistake my intentions. I would choose you if I was forced to. As shocking as it may sound, and as painful as that decision might be, you mean more to me."

Mrs Hughes became instantly torn. The words he was saying in any other circumstance would be beautiful, and they were. However, the sheer ridiculousness of him letting his job go for her was profound. It made her annoyed. Carson had worked too hard and for too long to even think of such a thing. This annoyance overtook her happiness momentarily. "Charlie," she said with a stern voice. "I'm telling you now that I will not allow you to give up your role. Ever."

Carson smiled. "I would if I had to. If I had to for you."

Mrs Hughes tried not to smile because she was irritated, but the corners of her mouth reacted anyway. "I wouldn't allow it. Out of either of us, I'll be the one that makes the move. Not you. You belong there. You'd be lost without it. You are Downton."

Carson's face softened. "I appreciate what you're saying. I do. I hope that we won't have to do either. In the optimum situation, we will continue as we are, and I hope with everything that that is the case." Carson let out a sigh. Neither of them wanted the other to be displaced from their job. She had worked hard all her life. She had persevered through a lot to get where she was. No, he would not allow it to happen, but arguing would be futile as they didn't know their fate.

"Please, Elsie. I appreciate what it is you are saying, but I'm hoping with everything that I have that we won't have to. In an ideal situation, and if his Lordship deems it acceptable, then we will continue to work side by side." Carson let out a sigh. It pained him a little that she was willing to throw her career away for him. She had worked hard. She had persevered through a lot to get to where she was and he would make sure that she was not at the brunt of their punishment if that was to be the case.

"You're right," Mrs Hughes said quietly. "There's no point getting worked up about it until we have to. We don't even know what they're going to say. At least I know I'll have you by my side either way."

"Always," he said softly, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze.

"Don't think I'm going anywhere either," she smirked. "You're stuck with me like a bad penny." As she sat there she thought back to the conversation that she had with Mary downstairs. It would help them if they needed it. "At least we have Lady Mary on our side already."

"Yes," he agreed. "How did you know that she was on our side?"

Mrs Hughes tilted her head and knowingly raised her eyebrows. "As I walked down the pathway towards the hospital, I could hear someone that sounded like they were upset. I thought I would have a look and see if they needed any help. It was her sat on that small bench around the corner."

"What?" Carson exclaimed, his back going rigid against the pillows as his head started working through the reasons as to why. "Is she well? Should I go and check on her and see if she needs anything?"

Mrs Hughes shook her head. "No no. In all honesty, it looked like she was going through some sort of transition. It's hard to explain. It was like she was talking to Mr Crawley. It made me feel a little sorry for her because I could see that the poor thing is still in a lot of pain. She's fighting though."

"Naturally," Carson defended. "It's awful. It's hit her terribly as you would expect."

"Yes. It was as if she was trying to accept her situation and do the best for his memory. It shows great courage I must admit. I don't know how I would be if I was in the same position."

"It was frightfully jarring. The whole thing deeply saddened me to see. She was broken, so very broken. It'll take her some time, but she is being as strong and as best as she can. Many people will do what they can to help her. I know I certainly will."

"I don't think there is any doubt in anybody's mind about that, Charlie. No doubt in the slightest. She knows that." Mrs Hughes was watching his face as he processed what she was saying. It was obvious that he was worried about her, and no doubt he was itching to go down and see that she was well enough. It likely bothered him and made him think that if she wasn't then she would flee again. That would break his heart.

"Are you sure it's not best that I go down and check on her?" Carson's eyes seemed to plead with her. They seemed to look out for reassurance.

"No, Charlie. I wouldn't have left her if she was in such a state that I thought that she was going to do anything irrational. As I've said, I think she's fighting and she knows what she needs to do." In Mrs Hughes' mind, she knew that there was always going to be Lady Mary as a barrier. Not anything detrimental, but he would always worry about her. That's one of the reasons she knew that it would be difficult for him to leave the job because, in essence, it would mean that he would be leaving her. Even when he was going to leave with Robert Carlisle, Carson was willing to drop his life to do that. It made him unhappy even thinking about it, but he was still going to do that for her. Mrs Hughes remembered how hard it was for her to hear that he was leaving. How hard it was to admit that she would miss him. It had been a blessing that he hadn't left in the end because this would not be happening now.

"Look, Charlie, I don't want you to think that I am speaking out of turn for either you or Lady Mary. Some things need to be done on a person's terms. If she needs to let go of her grief, there are things that she needs to do herself. One of them, and that's what I think she is trying to do, is to accept her situation and her loss as best as she can. It's hard, I know it's hard for her and I know in turn it's hard for you. But you need to allow her to grieve on her terms. If she continually relies on the emotional support of others then she will never be able to do it herself, and that will do her no favours in the end. Be there, like you have always been in the background, and step in when she needs it as you've just done. You risked your life. It might seem harsh, but you've helped her through the darkest part. Now she needs to fly towards the light as best as she can."

Carson sighed and turned his attention to the window. It made sense to him, but it felt like in doing so he would be letting her go to fend for herself. It was ingrained in every ounce of him that he had to protect her at whatever cost. It had nearly killed him, but he would never change anything about it. Ever. Carson couldn't think of what to say in return.

"I hope I've not made you angry?" Mrs Hughes probed, not being able to tell what he was thinking as he looked away.

"No, no," he said, waving his hand ahead of him. "Not at all. I have to admit that it makes sense. It's just not natural to me to stand back when I can help her."

Mrs Hughes sighed sympathetically. "But you do that, Charlie. You don't interfere all of the time. I know that you only really step in when she requires it. Like when she said you had overstepped the mark, you stepped in because you knew it was right. She's a grown woman, Charlie, she has to do some of these things herself. I'm not trying to be harsh, I just know that it affects you so much. I hate to see you sad. I hate to see you worrying about her constantly. It's admirable, and she's lucky to have your loyalty, but in this instance, I think just keep a step behind to catch her when she needs it."

Carson didn't respond. In his gut, he knew that in a way she was right, but then he was conflicted with his heart that was telling him that he needed to be there no matter what. It was difficult.

"I'm sorry if I have come across harsh." Mrs Hughes sighed and rubbed his hand with hers.

"I know you're just doing it to look out for me, and I appreciate that. I just don't think I can leave it to chance. This whole thing could have been prevented if I had done more." It was a thought that he had had in his mind during the whole thing. Carson had sworn that he would always be there to protect her. A part of him had thought that by letting her get into that mess he had let her down.

"I will not have you blame yourself. You do more than enough for that girl. More than enough. You do it often to the detriment of yourself. You've been there for her in more ways than even her own family. I also know that she is fully aware of your support, and I know that she uses it when she needs it. Now wipe that thought from your mind, will you? Before I get annoyed." Mrs Hughes tried to force a stern voice into the words, but instead, they came out soft. It was hard to be stern with him when he looked so downcast. Only Carson would blame himself for something that was out of his control.

Carson didn't say anything, he just nodded his head, hoping to try and quickly move the topic forward.

"I bet nobody has even asked you how much it has impacted you? How all of this has made you feel?" Mrs Hughes looked at him and searched his eyes, which were looking down at their hands. "Are you ok?"

Carson raised his eyebrow. "Why would anyone ask? I managed and dealt with the situation as best as I could at the time. I won't lie to you. I won't tell you that it didn't upset me to my core to see her in such a state as the one that I found her in in the woods. Some of the things she said were harsh. Some of the things she said were so empty of any sort of emotion but then so full of it at the same time. I do not believe I have ever seen anybody so broken, so scared of their own emotions, so devoid of rational thought."

"Was she harsh with you?" Mrs Hughes could just imagine her tongue lashing out at him like a serpent. Lady Mary was well known for being very hard with her words at times, and she was sure that they would have left marks on Carson's heart that were still healing.

"A little, but I suppose it's because I told her things that she didn't want to hear. That she had to hear. All of us find that hard. It worked, and I'm so proud of how far she has come since that moment. Honestly, Elsie, it was just horrid."

"As long as you're ok though," Mrs Hughes said softly.

Carson let out a puff of air. "I know you think that I'm too soft with her. I know you don't always agree with how much I do for her. It's hard to explain or rationalise. I care. I care a lot." Carson sighed and lifted his other hand to overlap hers.

"No, it's not, Charlie. You love her like a daughter. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I just don't like seeing things trouble you, that's all. I do think you're soft with her, I do, and I have wondered if she takes advantage of it at times, but she cares for you." Mrs Hughes wanted to reassure him in some way because after her conversation with the young woman downstairs, she knew that she did have a heart for him.

Carson would always be there for her. It was difficult for him to think that Mary would take advantage of his good nature because they had always had an understanding. If she ever needed help then Carson would be there, and if she had played him into a corner to do it, then she must need it more than she realised herself. Mary was good under it all and would often express it in a way that people didn't understand. Carson did though, he understood her very well. "Yes, well... I will not change the way I am with her. If I can help her I will. I'll help anyone if I can."

"I would never ask you to because I know it's futile. You're a good loyal man. Too good sometimes." Mrs Hughes could see his expression, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and comfort him. The look in his eyes showed her that he was struggling with what she had said to him like he knew she was right but didn't want to admit or act on it. That was fine. Carson was loyal to the bone, and sometimes that worked in his favour or against him. Mrs Hughes would be there for him regardless.

"Thank you," he said and turned to her so he could see her face. "I do appreciate your words."

Mrs Hughes smiled and gave him a gentle nudge with her shoulder. "I am looking forward to having you home."

Carson sighed. "And I am looking forward to being back. I've missed it." It had been difficult for him to have so much time on his hands. It had been hard for him to keep himself entertained because his whole life had been busy. It made him realise that he also never really took any time off. That didn't bother him, because his work made him happy. Would that change now he had Mrs Hughes? Would he want to step away so he could spend more time with her? Of course, having them both doing their jobs would mean that they wouldn't be able to take time off together. Maybe a few hours in the day here and there, but nothing more than that. Carson wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. It was like she had become a drug to him, and she made him feel so good by doing so little.

"I think you're one of the only people I know that would say that you miss working," she laughed. "But it has been strange without you there, I admit."

"Is there anything I need to know about?" Carson queried, his mind starting to think about the things that he was going to have to catch up on. In his head, he had already started to make a mental note about the things that he needed to catch up on, things that he normally only really did. It had been good fortune that he hadn't been in the hospital for too long.

"And you think I'm going to give you a handover now? Here? Whilst you're still in the hospital?" Mrs Hughes scoffed. "Don't be silly. You won't be working for a few days yet. I'll fill you in with anything drastic, which I might add there is nothing of the sort, once you're back on your feet. But for now, let's not talk about work."

"Well, what shall we talk about then?"

"There is more to our lives than just work, Charlie," she chided. "We don't have to talk about anything in particular. I'm just thankful that you are well, and thankful for your company. We could talk about nothing and I'd still be happy."

Carson twisted his body so that he could face her more directly. As he sat there, watching her face as she looked out at him, he couldn't help but squeeze her hand. Having her hand in his was reassuring, warming and right. They worked well together both in and out of work. She challenged him, looked out for him and fought for him fiercely in a way that only she could do. What if the injury to his head had meant that his mind had played a trick on him? What if this wasn't real? If it wasn't he would have to make the most of it and act on reality when it finally arrived. But that glint in her eyes was real. The way the pressure from her touch made his hands feel warm and the way she leant against him was very much real. It was perfect. She was perfect. There was no better woman for him. Mrs Hughes made everything feel complete. The missing piece. The one he had been waiting for.

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**I toyed with the part where Carson asked Mrs Hughes to sit next to him on the bed. In my mind, there are layers to their relationship that we didn't see on the show. It made me happy to write either way. I hope it did the same for you. **


	33. Chapter 33

**HI! I'm back :) I was out of the country for just over 2 weeks and then I had to get back into the swing of life! And writing, of course. It's not very long. Just a quick snippet compared to some of the others. But I hope you enjoy it. **

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Carson peered down at his shirt and checked to see that everything looked proper before he returned his gaze to the window of the car. The vibration mingled with the excitement and relief that was coursing through his body. Like electric, he felt his skin buzz and the hairs on his arms stand on end. It was like his body was humming with the anticipation of returning home. Returning to normality. As he looked at the faces in a passing crowd he couldn't help but smile. They all looked happy, content and at ease. They all looked blissful like they didn't have a care in the world. They were laughing. Maybe it was because he was feeling so content himself that he noticed it? It was nice to see. So many years had they been trapped in the war. Many lost faces and souls. The burdens of the people carried in every frown and tear as if the village had enveloped the fallen. So many men lost. So many families ripped apart. The village was a part of him, and he had felt it deeply. Seeing people getting on with their lives was amazing to see. It was if the world was embarking on a new adventure with him. Standing on the threshold of untapped happiness and energy, he felt like he was going to burst. Getting home would be like uncorking it and letting it all be free.

In contrast to the bright sunshine, happy people and Carson's inner excitement, the inside of the car didn't feel quite so warm. There was a tight air of tension emanating from the young woman who was perched on the edge of her seat as she gazed, without purpose, at the sky above them. They hadn't been in the car long, but in those few moments, she had not said a word. Instead, she sat rigidly and on edge, and he could see that the skin on her knuckles was now white and taut. The expression on her face was glum, troubled and worried, and he knew that she was worried about going home. The stark reality of being tucked up in the hospital and away from the real world had come crashing down in her own mind. The reality of being surrounded by memories and her family had put her on edge. It was not a sign of weakness, because she had come so far. It was just another hurdle that she had to climb with him helping her in any way that he could. Once she got back into the swing of things she would likely be well, but the anticipation and forethought would be enough to put anyone's nerves on edge given what they had been through.

Returning his eyes to the window, his mind running through how best to strike a conversation, he peered out in the direction of the Abbey. In a short while, he was going to see it with his own eyes. The house that stood so tall and majestic amongst the Yorkshire countryside like a huge and well-sculpted giant. The beacon of the people. The jewel of his eye. The gem that nestled itself into the rolling green hills like it had been there for an eternity. Carson was happy to be going back again. There was nothing but excitement coursing through his veins at the prospect of being back within the comforting walls that he had walked behind for so many years. Having the familiar sense that the walls created around him, feeling the sturdy floor beneath his feet and having everything that he held dear nearby was enough to make his heartbeat feverishly as he waited with anticipation. It was like a comfort blanket to him. As well as that he knew that he would be back to being close to Mrs Hughes. Elsie. His Elsie. The smile on his face matched the people outside of the car.

The sun was shining high in the sky and not a cloud was to be spotted as he peered up into the pale blue that encompassed the heavens above him. When he had stepped foot out of the hospital, a small bag in his hand, he took in a deep breath of that warm air and let out a sigh. It had dawned on him that it had been such a long time since he had felt so good. It was as if anything and everything that he had been carrying around with him and been lifted from his shoulders. The new world that he was going to traverse was a little daunting, but all that was pushed aside when he pictured Mrs Hughes in his mind. Although they were unsure of what their future was going to hold, it didn't matter all that much because he knew that she would be with him regardless. There was not a thought more comforting, not a feeling purer and not a vision warmer.

The car bumped over a small pothole, and Carson turned to look at Mary once more. Nothing had changed. Across her delicate face sat a look of worry and apprehension. When she had stood by his side as the car had turned up outside of the hospital he had asked her if she was feeling well. Nothing came from her lips. Instead, she turned to look at him and gave him a faint smile and a weak nod of the head. Carson knew that she was dreading being home because with familiarity would come the rush of longing. Matthew would be everywhere to her. She was being strong, however, he could tell that she was determined to get past this so she could be the mother she needed to be for her son.

"My Lady?" Carson said softly, the car jolting him sideways so he bumped his shoulder against the side of the car. When he had said he would sit in the front, she had given him a look and told him she would prefer it if he sat in the back with her. It didn't feel right, but he knew that it was what she wanted. It made him feel a little uncomfortable as he looked to the space ahead of him in the car that he should have been sitting in. If she felt it better that he was by her side then he would not complain. He would let the discomfort ride with him, but he would do as she said.

"I know you're worried, Carson," Mary said quite flatly, the delicate lines of worry on her face never moving as she spoke. "And I understand why. I am fine. Truly."

"My Lady," he said with a soothing tone, watching her face with intense curiosity as she moved her head slightly to the side. Not quite enough so she was looking at him though. "It's quite fine to feel apprehensive about returning home. It'll bring back feelings, moments and things you had likely forgotten about. You have come so far and overcome so much. I know you have the strength in you to do this." Carson waited for her to look at him before he continued. "May I say something?"

"I don't think I could stop you even if I tried," she said as the edge of her mouth curled upwards slightly. "Not that I mind. I know you want the best for me and would never offer words if you did not deem them useful or appropriate."

Carson nodded and cleared his throat gently. As he sat there, looking at her face, feeling warm and proud like a Father would, he took a moment to watch her features. Carson had become well versed, over the years, and especially over the previous weeks, at how she was doing by how she held herself. The strength that was oozing out of her like the rays from the sun was blinding. It had been a long and treacherous path, like climbing the highest mountain in the world with no experience. And yet there she sat, a light behind her eyes that he had not seen in a long time. She was coming to life again like the blossom after a long winter. It made his chest puff out. "I feel very proud of you, My Lady. Very proud indeed."

"I don't know what for," she scoffed. "I don't feel like I have done anything worthy of that." Mary squeezed the edge of her seat again as she thought about the days that had unfolded. Then she thought about the things that she had said to Matthew the night before and it made her close her eyes so she could picture his wonderful face.

"Think back to all of our conversations. Think back to how you were before all of this. How lost you were. You have come so far, Lady Mary. A lot further than you know. You have an element of determination behind you now. You want to do well. You want to be there for your son." Carson's whole face had drooped into that soppy look that he had that resembled that of a Bassett Hound.

Mary sighed. "I do. I really do. I know that he is the final piece to the mess that is my broken heart. I know I need to see him, hold him, show him that I am going to be his Mama. I need to show him the love that he is never going to have from his Father. I sat last night and thought about what I would say to him when he is old enough to comprehend my words. How can I truly put Matthew into words? What is the substance of him? I know Matthew. I know everything about him like he is the oxygen that I need to live. But how do you put that into words so a child can understand who their Father was so that they feel like they he knew him without ever doing so? I need to spend some time to think about it so I can do it properly. I need to be his Mama. I need to."

Carson nodded. "You will stand to the task with all of the passion you have within you. You will do a wonderful job. There is not a single doubt in my mind."

"You might find me silly. I sat last night, watching the sun go down in the garden. I wanted to enjoy the silence and simplicity just that little bit longer. I wanted to think. I spoke to him as if he was real as if he could hear the things that I was saying to him. The thing that shook me was thinking that if I get back to my normal self, get over this grief, that I will get over him. If I get over him I fear that I'll begin to forget him. I'll forget the little things that make him who he was to me, who he was to himself. I don't want things to weaken. I don't want things to fade."

Carson took a moment to think about what it was she was saying. "I would never find you silly, My Lady. I think that you'll never truly be free of him. When someone you hold so dear is taken away from you, there is something that will stay with you for as long as you walk this earth. Talking to him can be cathartic in its own right. Some things do not need a reply, they just need to be spoken so you can hear them with your own ears." Carson stared out of the windscreen as he thought about what else to say, and then an idea dawned on him. "May I suggest something, My Lady?"

"Please," Mary pleaded as if she had been waiting for him to say something that might help her. Out of everyone in her life she knew that he always had something to say that would lift her.

"All of these things that you don't want to forget. All of the little things that you worry that you will lose as you move forward with your life. Maybe you should take the time to write them down? In time you would no doubt end up with a whole cascade of things that you do not want to forget. You could put pictures in it, letters in it. Whatever you decide."

"Wouldn't that be a little silly? Like a scrapbook, a child would make?" Mary had twisted her body towards Carson as if the idea had caught her attention. There was doubt in her words but her eyes were saying that it might be enough to help her in her quest.

Carson gave his head a gentle shake. "Well, My Lady, I wouldn't see that as being silly. With everything that's going on, it might remind you of the things that you want to show Master George. It would be for your eyes only if you see that as being the case. They do say that sometimes putting things to paper can help."

Mary turned her eyes to the outside world. In the distance, she could see the Abbey coming into view. The majestic yellow walls with the contrasting dark features that gave it an ominous look in the right light. The reaching peaks of the towers, the tall windows that lined the edges and the broad giant trees that stood as protectors of the estate. As it stood so prominent in its surroundings, the trees and rolling hills, foleys and curving driveway, she pictured his face as they walked over the fields. Then she thought about the fact she couldn't remember the name of Matthew's star and how she had berated herself for forgetting its real name. "I think I might like to try," Mary said quietly. "I can write them as I remember them."

"I'll get a selection of blank books sent to you. So you can pick the right one." Carson nodded and made a mental note to make that one of his first tasks. There was going to be a lot that he needed to do when he got back, and he knew that he wouldn't be working right away so that would be the perfect time to arrange the things to help her.

Mary turned herself so that she wasn't looking at the daunting view of the Abbey, her stomach knotting as she thought about the times that she had walked around it with Matthew by her side. Resting her eyes on Carson, who was peering out of her window at the Abbey, she felt herself think about how thankful she was to have him in her life. Since she could remember he had been there for her time after time without ever asking for anything in return. It made her determined to make sure that he was able to start his life with Mrs Hughes without any issue. Of course, she knew it was also because she couldn't do without it. The fact that she had nearly lost him because of her own selfish actions had been painful enough. Knowing that one day she would have to do without him made her feel sad. That kindness behind his eyes. The big brow of his that always showed what he was truly thinking. The way he had to get everything done correctly. They had been so lucky to have him, even if they had not always seen it as such. "Do you know what also worries me, Carson?"

"Whatever it is, My Lady, we can get through it." Carson gave her a reassuring nod.

Mary smiled. "I don't think everything can be navigated sometimes," she paused to watch as he tilted his head with curiosity. "I worry that one day I will have to walk this earth, these grounds and this life without you. I will have to find a way to lift myself up in your absence and without your unyielding loyalty and care. I suppose the loss of Matthew brings forth the concept of mortality and the fact that immortality is impossible. So, the people in my life that I care about are never going to always be with me. I just don't know if I can lose the last of the men who understand me and help me keep myself tall."

Carson could feel a ball of sadness catch in his throat. In his head, he knew that one day he would have to leave his post. One day he would not be there to help her when she so desperately needed it. It was hard, and he knew that the transition out of the house would be one of the hardest he would ever have to do. Of course, though, he also knew that he would do whatever he could until there was not a single breath left in his body. It was in him to give her everything she needed, even if it was not required. The care he had for her was not confined to the boundaries of his role and his door would always be open. "I will be by your side as long as I can, My Lady, and I know you know that. Even when I can no longer do the job that I love with all of my heart, I will always have an open door, an open ear and a shoulder for you for whenever you need. Whilst there is still witts about my brain, fire inside my heart and air inside my lungs, My Lady. Whatever you need and whatever is in my power is yours. You do have more about you than you think though, Lady Mary. You are strong. You are built to take this world in your hands and make it into something beautiful. The confidence is in there, and you just need to set it free. You can do it."

"You just always know what to say. Always. We are so lucky to have you. I hope you know that we appreciate everything you do, even if we don't always say it." Mary smiled and reached out to take his hand to squeeze it. "Really."

Carson felt his head expand with happiness, and he gave her a cheek hurting smile. "Thank you, My Lady."

"No, Carson. Thank YOU." Mary gave his hand another squeeze before letting it go. They were working their way up the drive now. They were close. "And what about, Mrs Hughes?" she said quietly. "Will she despair when I stand in your doorway whilst requesting your help?"

"Mrs Hughes is a strong woman like yourself. She has her ways and she feels strongly. We do not know the path in which our relationship will move yet. I know I must talk to his Lordship and hope that there will be no impact there. But she knows that I am loyal to you, My Lady. I love her very much. And I care very deeply for you and she knows and accepts that even if she doesn't fully understand it."

"I must say over the past few days I have seen another side to her. She'll keep you on your toes," Mary smirked.

Carson chuckled. "She's been keeping me on my toes for many years, My Lady."

The car rolled up at the front of the house. Mary had put her eyes on her hands when they had gotten close, not wanting to see if there were multiple people outside to greet her. Their thoughts would be visible through their eyes. There would be forced happiness to cloud worry, jokes and laughter to avoid awkwardness. Mary just wanted to get this part out of the way so she could concentrate on getting back to normal. Of course, she knew that it was only because they cared and worried about her. They would likely tiptoe around her for a while, pander to every wish and watch her under scrutiny for weeks to come. They wouldn't want another problem. Now most of them knew what her intentions had been, she knew that they would all reach out to her and see how she was doing at regular intervals. Mary had to try her hardest not to get annoyed with them, to not feel suffocated by their care and love. If she required space, she had to make it and not be forceful when attempting to get it.

The car stopped. This was it. This was the beginning of a new part in her life. It had to be.

"You can do this, My Lady," Carson whispered, keeping his eyes on her as she stared at her hands. "One step at a time. We're all with you."

Mary nodded her head, twisting her fingers together as she took in a deep breath. Carson was right. She was going to do it as he had said and like she had told Matthew. It was going to be hard, of course, it was, but she didn't want to cry any longer. So, with everything that she had, she lifted her head and gave Carson a nod. "Shall we?"


	34. Chapter 34

**Next :) It's been a hectic month and I've finally managed to get back into this. I hope you enjoy it. Hope everyone is keeping well. **

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Robert stood looking out of the bedroom window into the distance with a small smile on his lips. It was that small smile that was barely noticeable, but enough to give him a friendly and soft expression. There was a feeling within him like a nightmare was finally coming to a close after a long and arduous night. Knowing that his daughter was on her way home, on her way to her rightful place had filled him with an inexplicable calm. It was going to be hard, there were still going to be moments, but he knew in himself that it was going to work out somehow. It seemed like months since he had been out in the rain, trying to find her after her dark and sudden vanishing. After seeing her in the hospital, and noticing just how much she had come out of herself, he was confident that things were going to get back to normal. It was what they wanted. It was what they all wanted. It had put the house and everyone in it into a strange and unsettled state. They had spent time tiptoeing around her, for her own benefit of course, but it had left things running at a different pace which he hadn't liked it. It was something he had had to do, but that didn't mean that he had enjoyed it either way. All he had wanted to do was protect her from it all, and maybe he should have gone about it differently, but it was done now. Nothing could be changed. Hindsight, the constant reminder of poor choices and unknowingly bad decisions.

There was a small pressure on his lower back that brought him back to the room, and he turned his head to see his darling wife snake around him until she was stood just ahead of him. The view from the gorgeous Downton landscape had been replaced by something much more appealing. The tension had lifted from his beautiful wife's face. It was obvious that she was feeling the same as him. Their darling girl was coming home. Feeling grateful, he took Cora's hand and placed it on his chest so he could put his arms around her. The warmth of her body was as soothing as any medicine, and he gently rubbed her back with his hand.

"Are you ok, Robert?" she said calmly, her voice reverberating into his chest.

'Oh, yes. Especially with my darling wife in my arms and my daughter on her way home. I feel refreshed almost." Robert rested his chin on the top of Cora's head and took in a deep breath.

"You look a little tired," she said quietly, turning her head up to look at him with critical eyes. "Did you not sleep well?"

Robert smirked knowingly. "You know as well as I, Darling, that there were other things we both had on our mind last night. I likely didn't get as much sleep as I should, but nights like that are always worth it."

Cora chuckled and playfully tapped him with her hand and then wrapped it around him so she could pull him in. Those nights were few and far between these days, but she was glad that they were able to have a full and satisfying marriage when so many out there did not. "Yes. They are very worth it." There was a happy silence between them as they both thought about the night gone by, and then the fact that their daughter was coming home made Cora sigh. "Oh, I'm so glad she's coming back here so she can be near us. I feel confident, especially as she looks so much better in herself now. I know there will be a bit of work, but she has come on leaps and bounds over these past few days. She's strong. Stronger now than she has been and I know she can do this. We can do this. All of us."

"I agree. I am so very thankful to have you here with me. Will she ever go back to being our normal Mary though?" Robert's bottom lip curved downwards just a little as he said it. Could his daughter change for the good? Would she become more cynical and quiet? Would she ever bounce back?

"I don't know, darling," she whispered. "But we will all be by her side to help her when she needs it."

"In fact, I don't know why I would even ask such a question," he said quite glumly, mentally scolding himself. "I know if I ever lost you I would never be the same again."

"Don't," Cora said sharply. "Today is a good day. I don't want to be thinking about such things." Cora leant back and pointed her face up towards him.

"No, you're right," he said sheepishly before turning his attention down to her and smiling. "Are you well, my love?"

Cora nodded slightly and leant up to kiss him. "Of course. We're coming out of the storm, Robert." She smiled happily up at him for a few more moments before placing another gentle kiss on his lips. "Shall we go down? She'll be here soon."

Robert locked his hands together and pulled her as close to him as he could before leaning down and returning the kiss. "Just a few more minutes.

* * *

Mrs Hughes stood at the threshold of Carson's pantry, staring at it with an intent level of critique. It honestly looked like it usually did. Everything was in its place. The desk was neatly full of small tokens that he used to get his work completed. Everything was where it needed to be, and there was not a speck of dust in sight. It hadn't taken long to give it the once over just to be sure, and if you looked at it, it only seemed like he had left the room moments before. It didn't feel like he had been gone for as long as he had.

Stepping further into the room she walked around, her eyes moving up and down as she gave everything the Carson critical eye. No, everything was most certainly as it should be and she didn't quite know why she was even checking it again. Maybe it was nerves? Maybe it was because she didn't want to let him down? It was likely a complete amalgamation of the two notions that had her feeling a little on edge. It was the day that she had been waiting for, and she couldn't quite put her finger on the bubbling unease she felt in the pit of her stomach though.

Moving over to his desk she placed her hand on the sturdy surface and gave herself a moment to lean into it. When she thought about the nights she had spent with him as he lay unconscious she felt that pang of worry. It was as if the imprint of that pain she had felt when she thought that she was going to lose him was burnt into her core. What she had to do was rationalise it. It was now, knowing that she loved him as she did and that he felt the same, that was the catalyst to what she was feeling. She had felt the worry of the prospect of losing him. The one thing on the planet that kept her moving, kept her sane, kept her feeling anything but exhaustion. The taste of potential loss was like acid on the tongue and it left marks. One day, and by God, she hoped it was far away, she would lose him for real. They weren't young any longer. From having him by her side, from holding his hand, touching his cheek, feeling his presence in a way that was much deeper than she ever thought possible, to him being around no more was as realistic as her leaving the room that she was in. Unless she went first.

'Get a grip, Elsie," she whispered to herself as she moved back towards the doorway. When things were good there was always this little demon in her mind that backed her into a corner and made her think of something negative. It was a habit she had developed over the years, and she had wanted with all her might for it to go away. Having what she had wanted for so long fall into her lap was amazing, and she felt beyond ecstatic, but it seemed that little demon had wanted to give her something to chew on that would bring the tone down. No, she wouldn't dwell on that. She couldn't because it was like torture. What she was looking forward to was seeing him standing in front of her in his natural surroundings. Seeing the pride and passion that sat on his face like the markings on a map. The way his eyes would look to her. The way he would smile at her and lift her without saying a word. Carson was hers now, and no greater gift could be bestowed on her so she had to make the most of it. Doubting, worrying and carrying on in that way was never going to be beneficial. As she had told herself, they weren't young any longer and so she had to make the absolute most out of every waking moment and breath. This was going to be her new life now. With him. With him, by her side, she could tackle anything. Until he wasn't. "Bloody stop it," she cursed, her native Scottish accent pushing heavily into the words. "Today is a great day," she reminded herself again.

There was a shuffling of feet behind her and she readied herself for whatever it was.

"I've got all the last bits in the oven ready," Mrs Patmore said in quite a loud booming voice that made Mrs Hughes jump a little. "Oh sorry, sometimes I forget my voice has quite a bit of oomph to it."

"You're telling me," Mrs Hughes said with a raised eyebrow before taking in a deep breath.

Mrs Patmore put her hands on her hips and gave her friend a thin smile. It had been a busy night and morning, making sure that they had everything prepared well in advance just in case. So she had gotten up early, and made sure Daisy was up too, to make sure the prep and grunt work had been completed before they had needed to start breakfast. "Are you well?" she queried, her mouth slightly open as she looked at her friend in the face. "You look a little peaky."

Mrs Hughes tilted and shook her head. "I'm fine." As she stood staring at Mrs Patmore, who had raised both of her eyebrows pointedly, she shook her head and conceded defeat. The eye-roll followed suit. "Ok. Ok. I'm just a bit nervous. I know everything is fine. I've been flitting around making sure that everything is up to his usual standard and then checking again."

Mrs Patmore looked over her shoulder before plodding into the pantry and pushing the door to slightly. "Don't be silly," she scoffed. "It's as clear as day as to why you're really nervous. It's not the state of the 'ouse either."

"Well, I'm nervous about a lot of things and the state of the house is most certainly one of them," she retorted quite bluntly. Then she stopped, gave Mrs Patmore another look and shook her head. "I suppose I'm nervous because he's going to be home. Back here. The journey into the unknown begins. In the hospital, we had a bit more freedom to...you know, be ourselves. I just worry."

"You bloody worry too much sometimes. I don't think I've ever seen you this...worrisome. Mrs Hughes, if I may?" Mrs Patmore raised one of her eyebrows and paused for just a second. It was not long enough for Mrs Hughes to say anything in retort though. "We keep going around in circles, you and I, about the whole thing. Know this, because I shan't tell you again. You have nothing to worry about in the slightest. Have you? We know how he feels. We know how you feel. It will work itself out in some way, whether it is convoluted or as direct as a sailing arrow. Don't worry about the ifs and maybes. Don't worry about tomorrow when you have today." Mrs Patmore smiled. "You two are gonna grow old at each other's side. That's what I see and I know it's what you feel. So straighten up that back of yours and get sorted. Or," she paused and gave her a grin. "I'll have to send in Anna."

Mrs Hughes chuckled. "You never fail to amaze me with your way with words. I know you're right. I do, and I appreciate the talks. I can't help it. You know me, Mrs Patmore. It's the unknown. I mean, it's not going to be the same now working around here. It'll feel false if we aren't going to make it known right away. It's like we're living some sort of lie-"

"A lie?" Mrs Patmore said loudly. "I'm not bein' funny, Mrs Hughes. This house has had its fair share of lies, and many of them with no malice or ill-intent. It's your business to keep as you wish. So it's not a lie unless someone asks and then you say no. If you have to keep your business to yourself until you know what you're going to do, or until you have some time to work on things then what's the matter with that?"

"I know you're right."

"Can you write that down?" Mrs Patmore chuckled and turned her head as someone passed the partly open door.

"Oh shhh, you. Carson wants to tell his Lordship relatively soon so that it doesn't seem like there are any secrets. We know there are people in this house that would happily use it against us if the time arose. I'm not naming any names." Mrs Hughes ran her finger over a surface as she stood there. There was still no dust.

"You 'ent wrong," Mrs Patmore nodded apathetically. "You'll be fine though," she reassured Mrs Hughes as best she could with her tone. Even her gentle tone still had that rasp about it that made it seem like she was being forceful. "They won't want to lose either of you. Not a cat in 'ells chance that."

"You can never be sure of where you stand in this world, Mrs Patmore. Never take anything for granted. Although," she said sheepishly, making sure that there wasn't anyone at the door. "Lady Mary is going to back our case if the need arises."

"EH?" Mrs Patmore said loudly. "What do you mean?"

Some steps were moving down the hall and Mrs Hughes walked towards the door. As soon as she heard them she knew right away that it was Thomas. It was funny, that over the years of working with people you became used to how they walked around the house. It came in handy sometimes, especially in circumstances like these.

"Mrs Hughes," Thomas said, side-eyeing Mrs Patmore who was still standing with her mouth open. "The car will be here very shortly."

"Right, thank you, Thomas," she replied, her stomach twisting to the point where she could feel the contents of her recently eaten lunch churning like it was milk being turned into butter. "Can you meet me outside? I've just got to quickly check something and I'll be up with you. His Lordship has said that he wants everyone to carry on like normal, so I've got Mrs Patmore sorting the food out for the party, and some of the others cracking on so he doesn't suspect anything."

"Right you are," Thomas said blankly and turned on his heel and headed out of earshot.

"What do you mean, Lady Mary is going to back your case? It feels like you've ripped out a very important chapter 'ere," she moaned.

"Oh, I don't have time to talk to you about that now. Have you seen Anna?"

"No, not for a while." Mrs Patmore crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "You're going to 'ave to tell me all about it when you have a second."

Mrs Hughes had already started walking down the hall. "Yes. Yes," she replied hurriedly. "Now can you make sure that anything for later that is sorted is out of sight just in case," she shouted backwards before disappearing around a corner.

"Bloody typical," Mrs Patmore grumbled to herself before pulling the door to and heading back to the kitchen where Daisy was absentmindedly staring at the window. "Earth to Daisy?" she yelled before picking up a pan and slamming it on the side. "Am I talkin' to myself?"

* * *

Mrs Hughes stood quietly to the side as the family moved towards the car as it pulled up to a halt. Trying to keep herself steady, calm and non-suspicious, she used her eyes to search amidst the crowd so she could see his eyes. That's all she wanted. The sight of his eyes so she could look into them, see that he was ok, know he was home was all she craved at that moment. The hustle and bustle and excited chatter from the family drowned out most of the noise that would be emanating from the car. It was agony to have to wait, but she couldn't make it obvious.

The top of his head came into view, and her insides began to gurgle, excited to see him as if she hadn't seen him for years. In her mind, she was reprimanding herself and trying to keep herself on an even keel. No matter what, she couldn't let herself be obvious. Although her limbs burnt as the muscles restrained themselves, stopping her from running over to him and letting him envelop her in his broad and strong arms. "Steady," she whispered to herself.

"Carson, you're not working," she heard Mary say firmly, waving her hand defiantly as Carson sprung into his normal Butler role.

"I'm sure it's a hard habit to break," Robert said chirpily, sidestepping so he could stand to the side of his daughter. "Please, Carson, you're not back to work yet so if you could refrain from being so helpful for the time being."

As if a charge of electricity compelled her, like the remnant static from a bolt of lightning, she lifted her eyes to look up. There he was, looking happy and fresh. Their eyes connected and Mrs Hughes could feel her body burn. If nobody was around right now she would have run to him. It was agony to know that she couldn't, and instead, she had to do as she was meant to. He smiled at her. It was a smile that was just for her, and she could tell that it was by how his eyes locked defiantly with hers. It was fleeting but it was enough. The corner of her mouth edged upwards, so only he could notice, and she knew that he had by the way his cheeks changed shade. He was home. He was close.

"Let's all get inside shall we?" Cora said happily. "It's still quite chilly when the wind picks up."

Mrs Hughes kept her eyes on the moving crowd, her eyes looking at Mary who looked a little pale and bewildered as she peered up at the house. It was obvious that the young girl was worried about being home. Then she turned her direction to Carson, and Mrs Hughes could see him give the young woman a nod of encouragement. Carson was such a wonderful man.

"Is Lady Mary's room all sorted?" Cora said happily, turning her attention to Mrs Hughes.

Pulling her admiring eyes from Carson, Mrs Hughes nodded. "Yes, My Lady. Everything is ready. Anna is going to be upstairs waiting."

Lady Mary smiled. "I'll be thankful for that. I am thoroughly looking forward to a hot bath and for someone to give my hair a good seeing to." Lady Mary nodded with an acknowledging smile at the older woman.

The small mass of people moved through the front door, and Mrs Hughes held back so that she was as close to Carson as she could be. Robert was chatting to him about something and telling him that he would come into the house by the front door. It was all idle chatter really, and there wasn't anything important enough to pull her from her own thoughts about the man that she cared so deeply for. The strides he took were long and purposeful. The way he tilted his head, as if programmed into him, to look up and down at the area he was walking into so he could give it a critical eye. The way he always seemed to be listening, but working at the same time. The way he carried himself she could tell that he was glad to be home. And then Robert moved away and towards his daughter.

Mrs Hughes watched as the family stood with smiles as they welcomed Mary back into the home. It was a bit much, she could tell, but Mary was putting on a brave face. As she stretched out her fingers, she could feel a warmth emanating into her skin. There was no direct touch, but she knew that Carson's fingers were sitting precariously close to hers. The tops of her fingers twitched as if reaching out to him, but they never quite made the connection. It was agony. The ache to reach out to him was as strong as glue. The need for her eyes to move to his was as compelling as taking a breath. But instead, she had to remain still. It seemed hard to take in a breath, and her eyes searched the room around her to make sure that nobody was looking at them. It felt like they had been stood there for an age, and then she felt it. The tips of his fingers brushed hers in a fleeting and yet titillating moment. Everything came alive.

"Carson," Robert said happily, moving over to where they stood with a beaming smile on his face. "I know you're likely tired, but if you could meet me in the library at 7 pm I would most appreciate it."

Carson's back straightened and he nodded his head. It was an odd request, but he acknowledged it. "Yes, of course, My Lord."

"Now, Mrs Hughes. I know that Carson will likely be frothing at the bit to get a heads up on what's been going on, but I think we should leave him to get a bit more rest before we get him back into the swing of things." Robert couldn't help but keep that smile on his face.

"Of course, My Lord." Mrs Hughes took the opportunity to turn her head to look at him. "Your room is ready. The sheets were changed this morning." She gave him an involuntary smile. The sparkle behind his eyes was mesmerising.

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes," Carson replied. Mrs Hughes could hear the pressure behind his voice. It was the type of pressure that showed he was refraining himself as much as she was. It was going to be hard. Maybe once they got into routine things would be easier. But for now, as she stood there just inches away from him, she just wanted his arms around her. She wanted to touch him. The fleeting brush of his fingers had ignited such a desire to have any sort of physical contact from him. It almost took her breath away.

Mary stood quietly as her parents talked to her about plans and things she didn't have to worry about. Instead, her attention was on the two older servants who were stood away from the crowd. She had seen the way Carson's fingers had brushed Mrs Hughes', and the way they both were trying so desperately not to act on whatever feelings and desires were compelling them. It reminded her of the earlier days of her and Matthew's relationship. How she so desperately wanted to be near him all of the time. It made her begin to feel sad, and so she knew she needed to go to her room and bring herself back. She wouldn't be defeated, and she knew that having a bath, having Anna sort her hair out and to talk with would be a welcome distraction. In her mind, she was trying to think of a plan to try and help the pair ahead of her without intervening too much, as she knew Carson would disprove. "I apologise if I seem quiet," Mary said. "I am feeling a little tired. I'd like to go and get myself sorted. Are we having dinner at a normal time?"

"A little earlier today, I think," Robert said happily. "We can eat early so you can get an early night."

Mary nodded politely. "Very well."

As she climbed the stairs she turned her head and looked out to Carson who was watching her diligently with a soft expression on his face. There was another gentle nod. She could do this. She could.


End file.
